Ashes, Records, and Window Panes
by Christie Hart
Summary: They're so close, but they've never been further apart. "I can't do this anymore," he shakes his head, "We already fought, Isabella. We're done." "No," she says firmly, "We're not done, until I say we're done."
1. Time, Taunting, and Tears

**I'm baackk**

**Yah, so I know its been awhile ...an extremely long while -but guess what? I'm back with a whole new story. After suffering a nearly terminal writers block, I somehow managed to pull through. So here it is guys, my new story. I hope you like it.  
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**P.S. as creepy as this sounds? I missed yall. **

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 1: **

**Time, Taunting and Tears**

**-o-**_**Friday 9:15pm **_**-o- **

Branches tickle my mouth as I pop in a piece of broccoli, and slide the manila slip back in his direction. It is returned immediately after, and so I slide the envelope back towards him, a total of about three feet. Ironically, we're so close, but we've never been further apart. This distance can't compare to the chasm that truly exists between us. There are leagues between Edward and me. He slides it back.

"Sign the damn form Isabella," he grunts.

"I'm not divorcing you." I say calmly.

His fork scrapes against the fine china; mine barely graces the surface. He shoves the equivalent of the whole cow in his mouth; my piece of steak is too small for my tongue to find. My chair is pushed closer to the table; his chair is pushed away. I slide the envelope forward once more.

"I can't stand you," he pushes it back.

"I can't stand you either," I reject the envelope.

We enter a duel, his green eyes aimed at my brown ones. There's anger in his, but there's only composure in mine. Nothing between us has ever settled easily. After three years of marriage Edward should know that I never surrender.

"I don't need you to sign," he says coolly.

"Yes you do," I deposit another minute piece of meat into my mouth, "Unless you want this to go to court."

"I will if I have to," he shrugs.

"We both know you'll lose."

Although my life purpose is to get a rise out of him, this time it is unintentional. Washington state divorce laws say that as long as one party does not consider the marriage to irretrievably broken the court will have to evaluate the divorce based on the reason for the filing. And if Edward's only stand is that he can't stand me, than I'd love to go to court with him just to see him fail.

His ears tint pink, while his knuckles turn white. With a fleeting thought I wonder if there is any direct connection between the two sites. It's a telltale sign when he's about to blow up, and I'm just waiting so I can pop him.

"I had an affair," he admits nonchalantly. He expects me to be shocked. He expects me to be upset, and I'm positive he expects me to cry.

I smile, "I know."

His fork and knife crash against his plate as he inflates, while the wooden chair is knocked over as he stands up, a poor victim of his rage. I stay where I am because I know that if I move I might fall victim as well. So I just cross my legs like I normally do, sipping on my wine, and sharpening my pin as I wait for his balloon to reach maximum capacity.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he yells. His face is so close to mine I can almost kiss him.

"You," I bring my glass between us. Sip.

"Neither of us is happy," Edward continues, "I'm giving us an out."

"I don't want an out," I tell him. Sip.

"Don't give me that shit Isabella," he growls, "You're just doing this to piss me off."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I feign innocence. Sip.

Pop.

The goblet is ripped from my fingers, and thrown across the room in one quick movement. The sound of breaking glass is so familiar to me that I don't even flinch, just like how I don't flinch when Edward's hand grips my face, forcing me to look at him. What Edward doesn't know is that I see more of him than he sees of himself. His hot breaths fan across my face as he huffs and puffs. He looks like he wants to talk, but can't quite articulate.

"Go ahead," I goad, "Hit me."

His eyes remain on fire, but his grip lessons.

I whisper harshly, "Hit me Edward."

He releases my face with a slight shove, taking a step back as if he can break away from what he is feeling. I stand from my chair, and waltz past him, trying not to seem physically shaken by his outburst. I have the choice to leave if I want to, nothing is stopping me. Instead I choose to take advantage of his silence.

I say lowly, "I'm not going to let some slip of paper give us the easy way out just because things got hard."

"We are too far gone," he mutters, his voice soaked with defeat, "I-I don't know if we even love each other anymore."

"Yes we do," I object, "It's just buried somewhere deep."

"I can't do this anymore," he shakes his head, "We already fought, Isabella. We're done."

"We're not done, until I say we're done," I say firmly, "Do one last thing for me, and that will be it."

His head still turns from side to side as if he's shaking me off, "Just sign the papers."

"Go to counseling with me," I ignore him, "If they deem us irretrievably broken –then I will sign the papers."

"No objections," he asks.

"None," I agree, "Plus, it would help to add to your case if there's a professional evaluation."

He hesitates, but he says it, and it's all I need.

"Fine."

**-o- **_**Saturday 12:30 pm **_**-o- **

"Mr. and Mrs. Masen," the large secretary calls. He has the friendliest smile attached to a dimple, and curly black hair atop his head. _Emmett McCarthy. _

"Thank you," I say to him because it seems Edward's lost his manners along with his personality. I whisper an apology as we pass the desk, only feeling slightly better when Emmett gives me a dramatic roll of the eyes.

"Well that was quaint," Edward mutters as we walk down the hall to the counselor's office.

"I wanted to show that at least one of us is a feeling human being," I fire back.

"Oh, I'm sure you were feeling something," he scoffs, "Try not to flirt with our counselor would you?"

"You have some nerve talking about unfaithfulness," I retort before picking up my pace. I leave him in my wake only so that I don't have to breathe the air in the same vicinity as him. I'm afraid I might catch whatever disease that comes with the animal that crawled up his ass.

I knock before entering; only doing so when I hear the voice of the male behind the door. Edward is so close behind me as we go in. I fight the temptation to shut the door in his face.

"Hello there." Dr. Whitlock, a middle aged man stands up to greet us. His hand is soft and warm, but firm. He emanates tranquility, and for a moment I consider warning him about my unpleasant spouse. He stretches a hand out to Edward, and I'm relieved when he returns the gesture.

What do you know, ladies and gentleman, Edward has some decency.

"I'm Dr. Whitlock –but I prefer Jasper; it's very nice to meet you two."

"Bella Masen," I reply, slightly uncomfortable with using Edward's last name, "Nice to meet you too."

"Edward," Edward nods.

I'm so happy I married such an eloquent man.

"So I see you two are filing for divorce," Jasper dives in.

"No, _Edward_ is filing for divorce," I correct.

"Oh, so now it's only my divorce," Edward snorts.

"Well it's only you who's filing," I roll my eyes.

"Whoa," Jasper chuckles, "We'll have plenty time for that later. Right now I just want us introduced. How long have you two been married?"

"Two years. Don't you have a file on this or something," Edward sighs, "I don't have time for this crap."

The feeling of hurt gnaws at my stomach, causing me to scoot my chair away from him. I close my eyes and try to remind myself why I'm doing this. I wonder why I don't give in to what he wants and just scribble on that damn dotted line. Wouldn't that be so much easier?

_You're not a quitter Bella…not with anything. _

"A file isn't going to fix this marriage," Jasper replies coolly, "Neither is a few days."

"I know that," Edward says, the impatience clear in his voice, "But we only have 25 minutes left of this session. You might want to make the most of it."

"Twenty-five minutes," I gawk, "So you can only spare me half of an hour of your day? I have work too, and it's as equally important as yours."

"Contrary to your belief, _honey, _I can't bend my hours to my liking," he replies.

"Edward, for this to be the most effective you will need to donate at least three hours each week to this process," Jasper interjects.

"I can't take an hour out of my day. I don't even get lunch for that long," he throws his hands up.

"Fine, then we'll come here every day of the week," I cross my arms, challenging him, "Thirty minutes each session."

Edward's mouth pops open to protest before closing it again.

"I believe I can do that," Jasper nods, "Monday through Saturday, every day at this time. Edward, does that suit you?"

"Whatever," he says with a wave of his hand.

"That's just like you," I crow, pissed off by his dismissive behavior, "You're like a petulant teenager. _Whatever, whatever, whatever! _Grow up, Edward."

"I will when you stop acting like such a temperamental bitch all the time, Isabella," He retorts.

"That's enough," Jasper intervenes, "All this arguing is counterproductive. You will be able to express your anger towards each other, but in a much more healthy way. Now if you'll let me, for the remaining time of your session I'd like to outline my plan for the next eight weeks."

"By all means," Edward says, "Go ahead."

"Thank you," the doctor nods before leaning back, and releasing a deep breath. "I like to take this process in three stages; past, present, and future. For our beginning week we will discuss past issues, and use strategies to help us overcome these discretions. The next five weeks will be focused on your current lives, the way you interact with each other. This will also include exercises that help to rebuild your trust and faith in one another. The last two weeks concern your future. It is in this time that I will determine whether you two are compatible, and should continue therapy, or advise you to seek an end to this marriage."

"You really believe that we'll see a change in eight weeks," I voice, slightly disbelieving.

"Of course your marriage won't be fixed," Jasper chuckled, "I need months for that. But you will definitely see change; whether for better, or for worse is yet to be determined."

After this Dr. Whitlock dismisses us. The walk back to the cars is as silent as the drive home. Edward and I don't encounter each other for the remainder of the evening; whether this is because of work, or preferences I wouldn't know. Though like every night, we sit down at the table together, and eat our dinner. I don't know why Edward and I uphold this convention seeing as we often can't stand to be in the same room with each other. I'd like to think that it is our way of holding onto whatever is left of us.

"We have to do Dr. Whitlock's exercise," I finally speak up.

"Frankly I'm not convinced of his credentials," Edward huffs.

"Why," I scoff, "because he's right?"

We are met with more silence as we both examine our lasagna closely. I glide my knife through it, cutting it methodically while Edward stabs his and watches it bleed. I wonder if he imagines me as the food he's botching, or if the lasagna has done him wrong. Maybe it's the fact that I cooked it?

"I hate that you changed the color of our room without asking me," Edward says.

"It's not like you sleep in there anyways," I mutter.

"I'm trying to do the damn exercise," he lets out a deep breath, "We're not allowed to fight. Do you think you could do that Isabella? Do you think you could act like a civil human being? Isn't the stick up your ass getting pretty painful?"

Over twenty different comebacks enter my mind in that instant, fighting to make their way out. I no longer have to think before insulting Edward, it just comes naturally. But since answering him would prove his point, I remain silent to spite him. I take a sip of my wine, and let the sweet liquid replace the bitterness in my body.

"I hate that you got drunk on my birthday last year," I tell him.

"You kicked me out on your birthday," the tension in his voice is noted.

"_Because _you got drunk," I repeat.

"Yah well then I hate that you kick me out every time I make a mistake," Edward states. His voice is louder than it was before, and I can't stop mine from matching the volume.

"If I kicked you out every time you made a mistake you wouldn't even live here," I shout.

"Like I'm the only screw up in here," he yells, his hands clenching while they rest on the dining table, "You messed things up too in the past two years, and you don't see me locking you out of the house. You're a screw up too Isabella, you're a mistake too."

I push my plate away from me, no longer able to eat. The chair follows soon after, as I throw my napkin down on the table. I was wrong in thinking he made a mistake the first time. I was wrong just like I seem to be wrong about everything else. So does this mean that I'm wrong about fighting for Edward? With each word he says it get harder to believe that there could be a light at the end of this tunnel.

"You know what I hate, Edward," I say as I try to keep the tears at bay, "I hate that you can't remember we've been married for three years, not two."

And I walk away, not because I'm giving up, but because I'm slowly beginning to crack, and the tears are winning their battle for freedom. I walk away because I can't stand the fact that he will not comfort me. I walk away because I know if I stay all Edward will do is stand there, and listen to me cry.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Wondering what the hell you just read? Well, tell me about it!<br>But most of all, thanks for reading

.x

..oh yah *sigh*  
>Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they're Stephenie Meyer's...and all that good stuff.<p> 


	2. Pasts, Pills, and Pleasing

****_Hello wonderful readers! Alright, so I forgot to mention that I will most likely be posting once a week. The thing is, this story is a relatively short one. Or rather, there's long, but few chapters. So please pop me a review when you visit! I hope you enjoy :) _

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 2: Pasts, Pills, and Pleasing**

**WEEK ONE**

**-o-**_**Monday 12:40pm**_**-o-**

I glance at my watch for the fourth time, hoping that the time measuring device is incorrect. If this really is the time, then Edward is ten minutes late, and I've been rejected by my husband. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the realistic me knows that he's not going to show. Looking at the couples in the waiting room around me, I feel more than pathetic. They're all here on the brink of separation, and yet they're all here _together. _

"Hey there, pretty lady," Emmett slides up to me, offering me a tissue.

I chuckle without humor, shaking my head at myself, "I hate him."

"No you don't," he hushes me.

"No, Emmett," I say, making sure he understands just how serious I am, "I loathe everything about him now."

"Well…that's why you're here, isn't it?" Emmett points out.

"And why he isn't," I sigh. The phone rings from over at Emmett's desk, calling his attention away. He excuses himself, casting me an apologetic look before retreating.

As I sit there my feelings of rejection turn into bitterness and annoyance. It's our second session and Edward can't even attend? I understand that his job is demanding, but I think I deserve at least a call. Then again, Edward doesn't give a crap about my feelings, so why should he think to call me? Why am I forcing him to go through this when it's obvious in his mind Edward has already divorced me? This humiliation isn't worth it.

Fifteen minutes later, Emmett is still engaged in the phone call, aiming his pen at his heart as if to attempt suicide. He frowns as I give him a slight wave, and leave the premises. On the way back to the car my shield of indifference returns as I have to face the rest of the day.

**-o-**_**Monday 1:54pm **_**-0-**

I unwrap the film surrounding my crackers, and gingerly pick up the thin red stick to spread my artificial cheese. Truthfully, I can't stand the taste of this cheese anymore, but I don't think my stomach can handle anything more.

"Please tell me you're going to eat something else," Tanya begs as she sits down in my office.

Today is one of those few days that I have to come into the office. Working at a daily news press has its ups and downs. The perks being that your daytime is free, the downside being that you can be called in at any time, and your nights (and majority of early morning) are consumed.

"Don't start," I grumble, "I'm not hungry."

"Bella, you are deteriorating," she whines, "Are things with Edward any better?"

I shake my head, "Edward who?"

Tanya groans, "My brother is such an ass. Do you want me to get Jacob to talk to him?"

I shake my head quickly, "The last thing we need is your husband getting involved. Plus, I'm sure Edward has already told him everything."

Tanya snorts, "You'd swear those two are sleeping together."

"I would too if I didn't know that he was having an affair with Lauren Mallory," I roll my eyes.

"The receptionist at his hospital," Tanya gasps, "It's her?"

"I can tell that cheap perfume from anywhere," I chomp murderously on my cracker.

"But she's everything you're _not_," she finally regains function of her mouth, "Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, leggy…fashionable."

"Thanks Tanya," I glare.

"Not like that," she rolls her eyes, "It's like he was rebelling. He had to get the complete opposite of you."

"_Thank you _Tanya."

"Whatever," Tanya waves a hand dismissively. For not the first time, I'm overwhelmed with the similarities between her and Edward. Never mind the fact that they have the exact same bronze locks, piercing green eyes, and chiseled features. Their mannerisms are so alike it's almost surreal. Luckily, only Edward turned out to be the ass.

"Not that I don't love my brother," Tanya starts, "but why are you still with him? I wouldn't forgive Jacob if he cheated on me."

"Yes you would," I disagree with a defeated sigh, "You wouldn't think so at first, but you can't let go of someone you known for so long just like that."

Tanya is silent as she bites into her sandwich. I lay down my spreading tool, and stare at the one cracker left. It's one cracker, but it has the power to sicken me considerably. It's not even one gram of material and it will take so much out of me. Physically, I can't eat it. So like all other things that Edward has spoiled for me, I leave it alone.

**-o- **_**Monday 9:17 pm **_**-o-**

"You're not coming to dinner," Edward surprises me in my study. I hadn't known he was home. I hadn't cared either.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble as I continue highlighting, and correcting, "I have to finish this before heading to work."

"You have to eat sometime," he sighs.

"Yes, well, I'm not going to do it with you," I press the enter key more forcefully than I intended. If I'm not careful I will have to replace this keyboard.

"I didn't mean to miss our session," I hear the door frame creak as he leans against it.

I stop typing because I'm positive that if I continue, I will break the keys. Why do I let this man have so much power over me? Why am I fighting for someone who can't even apologize sincerely? Because even as Edward said that, he seemed like he didn't give one flip in the world.

"I had an, um, surgery going on," he continues, "I didn't make it out in time."

"Well, I wish I could have known that sooner," I sniff.

"Are you crying?"

"No, I'm not," I place my head in my hands, and brush my fingers over my confined hair. For a second I don't know why I continue to style it this way when it is so uncomfortable. Then I remember that this is the way he likes my hair, and no matter what I do somewhere deep in my subconscious I know it's to please him.

"What was I supposed to do," he questions, "I work in a hospital, it's not like I know when my victims are about to come wheeling in."

"Well they don't find you in a bathroom, and just hand you the scalpel," I barb, "They page you at least three minutes before."

"I'm sorry I don't dedicate those three minutes to you," he mocks, "Forgive me."

"Would it have really been that hard for you to mention to your mistress Lauren to call me," I ask, "or any of the other secretaries you're having an affair with?"

"It's not as simple as that," he argues ignoring my jibe, "I have to be prepping for surgery in that time."

"Then you need to find some other way to tell me, Edward," I shake my head, "because I was just so…_embarrassed. _Do you know how it felt to sit there in a couples' therapy office alone?"

He looks up to the sky, almost as if he is asking for divine intervention.

A small devil in me hopes he receives a lightning strike instead.

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"Yes, but you didn't even apologize afterwards," my voice is barely audible.

"Fine, I'm sorry," he bites, "are you happy?"

"Goodnight, Edward," I exhale, my throat feeling miserably tight. I try to re-submerge myself in the work before me, but it's proving to be more difficult than I imagined. Five, ten, then fifteen minutes pass, and I'm still not able to concentrate. I rack my brain, wondering what it is that is causing me to have such a block. I come to the realization that it's because my ears are still ringing from the slam of Edward's departure.

**-o- **_**Tuesday 12:30 **_**-o- **

We enter Dr. Whitlock's office uncharacteristically silent. None of us want to talk about the fight from last night, even though it's practically standing in the room like a purple, dancing elephant. Edward sits in the chair on the left, and I sit in the one on the right, scooting it slightly so that I'm not too close to him.

"Good day," Jasper greets, "How are you two doing?"

"Fine," I muster a smile to deliver. Edward grunts.

"I missed you both yesterday," he notes, "What happened there?"

"I couldn't make the meeting," Edward speaks up, "I apologize."

I try to keep my mouth hinged as Jasper nods in acceptance. How can he apologize to a complete stranger, yet fail to apologize to his own wife?

"How did the exercise I gave you on Saturday go," he asks.

I snicker as I think of how it ended up, "Loud."

"You're not meant to do it with any feelings of anger," he reminds us, "Here, set your chairs to face each other."

Neither of us moves. It seems our chairs are adhered to the ground.

"Move," Jasper prompts.

Slowly, we scoot our chairs around. The end product is Edward and I sitting about three feet from each other, in each other's perfect view. I have full view of his blue scrubs, white Nike's and silver gleaming stethoscope. I used to love how dedicated and passionate Edward is about his work, but now it's one of the many things that take him away from me. I never thought I could hate a career this much.

"Bella, I want you to repeat and finish this sentence after me," Jasper says, "Edward, it upset me when you…"

"Edward, you upset me when you missed our session yesterday," I fill in without missing a beat.

"Now Edward," Jasper turns to him, "I want you to finish and repeat this sentence after me; Bella, I understand why you would be upset because…I am partly responsible because…"

Edward hesitates, "Isabella, I understand why you would be upset because you were embarrassed. I am partly responsible because I didn't contact you. I also didn't apologize."

"Good," Jasper nods, "Alright now Edward. You may now express something that upset you. I want you both to use the same format."

Edward sighs, "Isabella, you upset me when you refused to have dinner with me last night."

"I didn't have dinner with you last night because you were acting like -," I begin to fire.

"Bella," Jasper interrupts, "not productive. Please follow the guidelines of the exercise."

I take a deep breath, glancing at Jasper briefly before saying, "I don't understand why you were upset."

Jasper motions for Edward to continue.

"I was upset because you didn't even tell me what was wrong," Edward keeps his tone even, "and I just sat there waiting for you. That is why I understand how you felt in the office yesterday."

I want to tell him that he is a pompous idiot, and that it served him right after the way he treated me yesterday, but I hold in my thoughts. Instead, I follow Jasper's instructions. "Edward, I understand why would be upset because you were expecting my presence. I'm partly responsible because…I didn't approach you with my issues."

"Very good," Jasper smiles, "Very good. How do you two feel after that?"

"The same," I shrug.

"Indifferent," Edward agrees.

"Exactly," Jasper exclaims excitedly, jumping out of his seat.

What the hell?

I briefly look at the edge of his table for a white powder trail…

"This exercise is used to show you that there is a way you can express negative feelings without exploding into a fight," he shares, "Hate is a unhealthy feeling, whether it is directed towards someone, or something, or an action. Normally there is an event in the marriage causes the spark of that feeling, and over time small, inconsequential things add to it. Soon you're harboring this storm of negative feelings that you can't control. It begins to fog your perspective of your spouse, and your marriage becomes poisonous."

I look at Edward, and see everything that the doctor has said. Have we let the infinitesimal problems grow into lethal issues? Is our marriage poisonous?

"So I want you to write down all the storms you two have gone through," he finishes, "Both of you will compile your own lists, and then for each of your points I want you to write down where it might have stemmed from. Keep in mind the point of this isn't to write down things you _blame _each other for. These are things you've both gone through together, and have both suffered from. You are not allowed to discuss this list before you come to the session understood?"

We both nod in agreement.

He leans back in his chair, a smile gracing his face, "Have a fruitful day you two."

_Yah, _I thought, _definitely on crack._

**-o-**_**Wednesday 6:00 am **_**-o-**

I step out of the shower quietly, knowing that Edward is still somewhere in this house. I don't know where exactly that is, but I figure if I pretend I don't exist then we can get through the morning without entering World War III. Carefully, I maneuver myself across the slick tile floors hoping that I will not render myself unconscious from slipping. I can master nine inch heels, but whenever it comes to walking across our bathroom floor I make Bambi look like a runway model. I hope towels can cushion a fall.

Finally, at the misted mirror I reach inside, and search for the magical container that will make my day bearable. Lately, I seem to depend on them more. Without them I'm reduced to a quivering, sniveling mess. I can't face the world and its Edwardian villains without them. It's a wonder what two small anti-anxiety pills can do.

"What are those," Edward's sudden presence causes me to freak, dropping both of the white caplets in the sink.

"Well they were pills," I inform him tightly, "but now they're sewer effervescence."

He removes the container from my hand (despite the little tug-o-war), and scans the prescription in less than a second, "Since when do you take Buspar?"

"Since when do you come in without knocking?"

He chuckles, "It's not like I haven't seen you naked before."

I roll my eyes while I secure my towel. "Give it back."

"No," he says plainly, "Why are you taking them?"

"Why do you care," I spit, "You probably want me to take the whole damn thing." In that moment Edward's demeanor changes completely. His light approach vanishes, and a livid expression replaces it. I think that he is about to inflate again, but instead he surprises me for the second time that morning. Another masks is painted on, one of nonchalance. The words hurt more when they're delivered with the look of indifference.

He hands me back the vial, "I don't."

**-o- **_**Wednesday 12: 25pm **_**-o-**

"You two are awfully quiet," Jasper observes.

"Well," I force a smile, "Why should I talk to someone who doesn't care about me?"

"Why should I care about someone who thinks I'm an unfeeling bastard," Edward retaliates not a millisecond later.

"Oh," Jasper scribbles something down, "That's nice."

"That's nice? That's _nice,_" my laugh is so harsh it almost sounds like a cackle, "Would you please tell me what you're on because I have _got _to get me some."

Jasper just shakes his head, smiling as he writes something else down, "Why don't we start with those lists?"

Edward retrieves his list from his pocket while I scrounge around in my purse for mine. I find it almost comical, the difference in our lists. Edward's is written neatly on his _Seattle General _notepad while mine is scribbled on a napkin. I can't be too surprised. Everything he does is orderly, apart from eating. Though, I suppose you have to have some organization in your life if you're going to cut up people for a living.

"You so wrote those five minutes ago," Edward accuses.

"Yah, I forgot," I admit, "Just like how you forgot this last year of our marriage."

"Okay, okay, enough," Jasper knocks his coffee cup turned gavel against his desk, demanding order, "Alright. I want you to exchange your lists."

Grudgingly, Edward and I obey and exchange our lists. He holds my napkin as if it's the most low grade thing he's ever touched in his life. I'd like to remind him that he came from a Podunk town where he used to hand these out to customers, but I restrain myself. We don't need another fight to brew over. I'm sure the next few we're about to have will tide us over until kingdom come.

I look down at his elegant script and snort,

_The Swans (childhood)_

_Miscarriage (?)_

_Affair (distance)_

_Divorce (everything)_

I realize, with a humorless chuckle, that Edward's list is almost identical to mine. The chuckle becomes impossibly more humorless when I revisit the first point on his list, "You have a problem with my parents."

"You have a problem with my profession," his voice holds the same amount of disbelief as mine.

"Hold on, we'll find out the reasons now," Jasper says, "but the rules are simple. No shouting and no interrupting. Since Bella started the last exercise, I want Edward to start this one. Edward, I want you to tell Bella what your issue is, what the cause is, how it's affected you as an individual, and how it's affected your marriage." He hands us each an index card stating the questions. I gawk at his perfect script.

Why is it that both the men in this room have a better hand writing than mine?

Edward takes a breath, flexing and relaxing his fingers from their fists. I think for a moment that he will just give up now and leave the room, but it seems as Edward is throwing all his cats out today.

"My issue is that ever since we met, your parents have disliked me," Edward starts.

I open my mouth to object, but Jasper gives me a warning glare that causes it to snap shut.

"It's as if no matter what I do, or what I achieve, I am not good enough for them. At any dinner we go to, or any family function I feel as if they are belittling me with each question. For example at the last Christmas dinner where your mother asked how could I possibly be making you happy? It's as if they think I'm inadequate and incapable of taking care of you."

My mouth opens, but this time out of being stunned. I have always thought my parents were proud of my decision to marry Edward. Granted they know we've been experiencing troubles over the past years, but I didn't think they held him accountable from the start. Whenever I was with them they were always picturesquely graceful. To add to my confusion, this has never been voiced before. I want to think that he is lying. I want to think that he is just saying these things to hurt me, but the more I think about it the more I start remembering instances that prove what Edward is talking about. All those times that Renee would ask about our financial situation, or question about things too personal, was it really her way of belittling him? I just thought it was my mother's nosy personality combined with her care for me, so I accepted it. Do my parents really think lowly of Edward?

"I tried to push away those feelings," Edward continues, "but I kept thinking, how can I take care of her when I come from nothing? I have a dead beat father, a mother saved by my rich step-father, and both my sister and I had to put ourselves through university. So I lived in what they said of me, and how they looked at me. I pushed myself so that I was good enough for them, and so I was good enough for you. All the while I hated that you were so perfect and I was so…not. Our marriage became an achievement contest."

I look away from him my throat constricting. How could I, being his _wife, _allow my parents to make him feel mediocre? How had I become so blinded to something that he seemed to have thought about every moment?

"Bella, do you have anything to say on this matter," Jasper asks me. I shake my head, not quite sure what I can say in the moment. I can't pretend that anything I do or say will ease what he's gone through. I have a feeling that apology is more owed from my parents. "Okay then, it's your turn."

The index card seems to have gained ten pounds in my hand

"Well, I now know why you spent so much time in the hospital," my voice wavers, "but I always thought that you were spending so much time just to avoid me. I would talk to Tanya, and she would tell me that Jacob came home, and I'd be waiting, wondering why you're still out. I thought, and still do think, that you love your job more than me. It might've started as your want to impress my parents, but I can tell it's turned into your top priority."

_What is the cause of those feelings?_

"It's funny how you said you didn't feel adequate for me when I've never felt enough for you," my empty laugh sounds again, "I wanted to be the perfect wife for you; cook for you, clean for you, love you, be your companion. But how could I do that if you were never home? I changed myself to fit into your world. Then when I changed, you started changing with me.I became the meek little trophy wife. You were the bread-winner, and I was the helpless, barefoot and pregnant wife. Except that I screwed that up too."

"Edward?" Jasper encourages.

"I didn't want you to lose your independence," Edward argues.

"Yes you did," I disagree, "Why else would you ask me to leave everything I've worked for to follow you here? You called it 'starting a family.' I was really making something of myself, Edward."

"You're a head editor at Seattle Times," he counters, "You made something of yourself here."

"What, after I couldn't have your child," I jeer, my eyes flood with tears at the mention of that storm...that hailing, destructive storm. "So I'm only allowed to be independent once I've failed at becoming a mother?

My issue, Edward, is that I couldn't even make you happy in the simplest way," I fight through the onslaught of tears, "All I had to do was hold her for nine months, and I lost her. And the way you looked at me afterwards…like you wanted to love me and hate me at the same time. It was my fault, I know that. I had tried so hard to be the woman you wanted me to be, to have the child that we both wanted, and I failed. I couldn't continue being the wife you needed because I lost her. And you hate me for that."

He reaches out a hand, and for a moment I think that he is about to comfort me. But then that hand returns to his side like it hadn't been suspended in air seconds before. Unable to stay in the room for a moment longer, I gather my purse and leave. All I can think about on the ride home is that not once did Edward correct me.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to break your computer screen over it? Tell me! I'd love to hear :)<br>~CH


	3. Flashbacks, Feelings, and Frustrations

_Hello fellow readers! Thanks for clicking in! Alright so maybe the story won't be THAT short. There is a lot of content in one chapter though. I have to say i'm loving the comments you guys give. In response to a lovely reviewer, unfortunately you will not be getting any EPOV. This story is fully BPOV.  
>I'm surprised by how many people are hating on my Edward right now. Well, without further ado, here is my disclaimer.<br>(insert smart and witty disclaimer about how this is Stephanie Meyer's here.)_

_Alright, NOW you can enjoy the story._

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 3: Flashbacks, Feelings, and Frustrations**

**WEEK ONE **

**-o-**_**Friday 4:00 am **_**-o-**

Edward is sound asleep when I walk back into the house for the first time since Wednesday. It so dark and cold that I shiver upon entering, wondering why Edward has felt the need to turn our house into an ice box. I then remember that this is the way he sleeps, and it was also one of the inconsequential things we fought about when he slept with me. I turn down the TV, and throw a blanket over him because as much as I dislike the man, and as much as he deserves to lie in the cold, I don't want him to catch pneumonia…But then I tug it down a bit because, honestly, when is the last time he's ever done something like that for me?

Since sleep seems to still be eluding me, I brew myself a cup of coffee and sit on the couch adjacent to the one snoring Edward is on. I can just barely hear the bantering of the Gilmore Girls, but the lack of sound is okay because I've never really liked the show anyways.

Lorelei's mother seemed a little too much like my own.

Surprisingly I don't feel the urge to regurgitate everything I've just ingested even though Edward is still present, and alive, and breathing. But I suppose that a sleeping Edward is just as good as a dead one because either way he's quiet.

Whoa there.

Okay, so, of course I don't actually want him to die, but if we aren't careful with the therapy session today one of us just might end up in a coffin floating somewhere. I study his traits, catching how truly handsome he is in this moment of slumber. I snort because that was the starting point of our relationship. I doubt Edward can remember, but I can recall everything about the day we first met. I feel sorry for poor sucker; he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into by crossing my path. He didn't even know what hit him.

"_Excuse me," a tall boy with a distinguishing colored hair stood before me, "You're kind of in my seat?" _

_ "I don't see how I am kind of in your seat," I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. I didn't care that he was a highschooler, I was not giving in that easily. This was a library, somewhere that a middleschooler like me was allowed to be. _

_Plus…he was cute. _

"_I'm either in your seat, or I'm not." _

_He raised a brow, "Okay, you're in my seat." _

"_There we go," I smiled, "but I don't see 'pretty boy' pasted anywhere on this chair here." _

"_Pretty boy?" he chuckled, "Look, I don't want to have to fight you for my seat." _

"_Then don't," I shrugged, "I wouldn't want you to mess up your nails." _

"_Oh, you're funny," he rolled his eyes, "Now may I please have my seat back." _

"_If I give you this seat," I said, shifting my body forward so that our faces were millimeters apart. The boy stooped down to my level, his weight resting on his hand that was perched on the table. "Then you're going to owe me a seat." _

"_Owe you a seat," he repeated, more than confused. _

"_Yes," I said, preparing to get up, "At the diner Friday at seven pm. You're paying –don't be late." _

I kick my feet up on the coffee table, truly lost. When had we gotten rid of those two people? I know that people can't stay the way they were in high school, but I also know that you're not supposed to make such a drastic change for the worse. When was the last time Edward and I had joked about something without there being a condescending meaning behind it? When did we stop being Edward and Bella, and start being…Mr. and Mrs. Masen?

I remain wrapped up in my thoughts until the complaining of the alarm clock pulls me back into reality. Edward mutters a stream of profanities as he wakes up, jumping slightly when he realizes that I'm present.

"What're you doing here," he asks groggily.

"What, I don't live here anymore?" I raise a brow.

"No, I just," he yawns, "It is way too early for this."

"I know," I agree, closing my eyes briefly. I hope that this coffee will surge me, but I know the hope is futile. My body has become way too used to caffeine.

"Too much of that shit isn't good for you," he murmurs as he eyes my coffee mug.

I shrug as I stand, "The best things in life aren't."

**-o- **_**Friday 12:10pm **_**-o- **

"As cute as your little note was, don't ever leave the house so early again," Tanya chides as she bites into her Panini violently, "I nearly had a coronary when I heard the front door close."

"Sorry," I apologize, "I remembered that I had to get together some old clippings for a segment tonight, and I needed the extra time before I got ready for the day. I have errands."

"You remembered at four in the morning," she frowns, "Bella, we already work an overnight job you don't need to overdo it. Did you even sleep last night?"

I shake my head, "Maybe for an hour?"

"Then you had that exorcist fest the night before," Tanya's frown deepens, "you should see someone about that."

"Have a psychologist _on top of_ a marriage counselor," I chortle, "Not kosher."

"How do you think that's going anyways," she inquires, "besides the fact that you left in tears the last session."

"I don't even know," I admit, "I still feel like I want to throttle your brother, but at the same time, I have the slightest idea of where he's coming from."

"Sounds like progress to me," Tanya smiles before her mouth forms a small 'o', "Can you _imagine _the makeup sex that's going to happen after all of this is over?"

"I don't want to throttle him _that _way," I hush her; "…Doesn't it bother you in the slightest that you just made reference to me sexing your brother?"

"Oh," she scrunches up her nose, "We'll pretend we didn't mention that."

"I'll pretend _you _didn't mention that," I chuckle before looking at my watch, "Flick, Tanya. I have to go."

I pick out a few twenties from my purse before handing them to her, "I'll see you tonight, sorry to ditch you like this."

"Nah, it's okay," she rolls her eyes; "Though I hope you know I'm treating myself to ice cream with this change."

**-o- **_**Friday 12:36pm **_**-o-**

"I'm so sorry," I rush into the office, "I lost track of time."

"It's quite alright," Jasper's smile is genuine, "Edward got here only about a minute ago."

They allow me to situate myself in the chair. It takes a few seconds, but I'm able to compose myself, and calm my breathing. I can only imagine how flushed my face is. There is nothing attractive about someone's face after they're finished running. It's like an awkward, post-orgasm face. Not cute.

"Bella, how are you feeling today," Jasper questions.

"Alive," I smile.

"I'd be worried if you felt anything else," he chuckles, "But you look a little tired. Not sleeping well?"

"I'm sleeping perfectly," I lie. It would have worked if it wasn't for that meddling Edward.

"Which is why you down about three cups of coffee every morning," Edward mutters.

"How would you know if you're never there," I sneer.

"Now, we're not starting anything," Jasper stops us, "Edward informed me you didn't stay at home after our session?"

"No," I confess, "I needed space."

"That's understandable, as I suppose Edward did. The topics that were covered last session were very dense," the doctor accepts, "Are you two ready to broach the last items of your lists?"

"Yes," Edward and I answer simultaneously, the only thing we've ever agreed to in the past few months. He spares me a glance, but then returns to looking straight ahead at Jasper. I had spent all of yesterday mentally preparing myself for the session today. I hadn't meant to skip our counseling, but truthfully I couldn't handle what was to come. I wonder if Edward still attended without me.

"Well, Bella already shared her view with us on the miscarriage last session," Jasper reads from his notes. I'm glad he doesn't skirt around the word, even though I wince from it. Even though time has passed, nothing takes away from the venom of that word. For months it seemed like the word was plastered on my head, marking my failure. Internally the badge of failure was still in place. "So we'll begin with Edward. First of all, I'd like you to share how you felt about what she said, and then proceed with the questions."

It takes a few moments, but after a knuckle crack and a clear of the throat, Edward begins to speak.

"I-I don't blame you for the miscarriage, Isabella," Edward exhales while I nearly choke on my inhale. "It was a rainy day, and you couldn't have stopped what transpired. Accidents happen, I know that. I would be a heartless brute if I thought you were in any way responsible for what happened that morning. But what got to me the most, what I couldn't reconcile with, was the fact that you shut me out during the darkest time in our lives. I held you when I could, I comforted you when you needed, but I never got to come to terms with what happened because I was too concerned with your grieving. It wasn't just you who lost someone. I lost a daughter, I lost a child…I lost her too. I began separating myself from you because I was bitter. I just…I-I just wanted you to be there for me too."

I close my eyes, hoping that my lids will serve as a damn to the break of water. I hate that I'm still so vulnerable, even after two years. I hate that we have to go through the pain of losing someone we never knew. I hate that I still mourn for the baby I only got to birth after her heart stopped beating. And I hate that I didn't even acknowledge the fact that Edward still mourns too.

"Bella, do you have anything to say," Jasper asks softly, handing me a tissue. I grip the light sheet of paper so tightly in my hand that it rips, and I'm only able to use the tattered, crumpled remains of it. When I'm finally able to speak, my throat is rough and my voice is strained.

"That's why I'm not upset for your affair," I explain, "because I stopped being your wife after that. I can understand why you would seek comfort somewhere else."

Edward groans, "There is no excuse for what I did," I'm surprised by the remorse in his voice, "Sure I felt jaded, and alone. Lauren was there, and I knew her affections for me. I took advantage of that, and for a while it felt good to be so wanted. Then I realized that it wasn't her affection I was looking for. It never lasted for even a month, Isabella. Every bit of it was a mistake, one that I regret terribly."

"But if I had paid more attention to you-," I start.

"Nothing excuses infidelity," he shakes his head, "I broke our vows, and I broke your trust. I will spend forever trying to gain that back and your forgiveness."

A calm silence takes over. It could be because we're emotionally drained, or it could be because there's simply nothing else to say. I want to think that with everything said that things can now go back to the way they were when we were first together, but even I know that is impossible. What I do hope is that with the release of all of this, that we'll finally be able to move on and leave the past where it's meant to be; behind us.

**WEEK TWO**

**-o- **_**Monday 12:35pm **_**-o-**

I storm through the office building, hoping that my fast movement will cause the anger to fly off of me. I can still feel the sting of her words, even though they had been delivered over ten minutes ago. Inside the building I find the nearest bathroom so that I can compose myself. But not even the minutes I spare take away what just happened in the office.

"_You asked to see me," I sat down in the chair opposing Victoria's. If my hate for this woman was tangible the US government would want to claim it as a territory. She gave Edward a run for his money. _

"_What the hell is this," she tossed a print before me, stabbing her finger at one of the columns, "A dog segment? How did this crap reach in my paper?" _

_ I remained poised, holding onto the anger that kept cheering for me to reach over and slap the fake red dye out of her hair, "I presented that segment to you over two weeks ago Victoria. You gave your approval." _

"_I would never have given my approval for something called "Doggy Dog World"," she sneered, "What are you here for Isabella? If you can't do something simple like sift the gold out of the crap then what am I paying you for? That's what editors do! They edit. If you can't complete a task like that then I might have to reconsider your position here." _

I splash the cold water over my face, wincing when I realize how ruined my makeup is. I will have to fix it after our counseling session seeing as I'm already ten minutes late. The looks I'm faced with when I enter the room are concern and annoyance. I bet you can guess who the latter belongs to.

"Bella, how are you," Jasper greets.

"Peachy," I say tight lipped, "I apologize for being late, once again."

"I'll let it slip this time,' he teases, "but I might have to start giving you extra homework."

"This is all fine and dandy," Edward butts in, "However; we only have twenty more minutes. Let's not waste time."

"Edward's right," Jasper agrees, not disturbed in the slightest by Edward's clipped tone, "I hope you two have thought about what transpired in the last session. I want to emphasize that it's very important to acknowledge our past because it is what makes us. However, dwelling in the harmful events of your past and not learning from them is poisonous to your marital health. With that, I open our next week with a quote from Wendell Berry that states,

_'The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.'_

So let's start by working on what's happening now," Jasper cites, "Edward. I want you to describe a normal day for yourself, and make sure to include what interactions happen between you and Bella."

"Well," Edward starts, "I get to work by around five or six, and the day is pretty hectic. I don't normally see Isabella in the mornings because she wakes up later."

"No," I cough, "I just avoid you like the plague."

Edward cuts his eyes at me, pausing for a moment before continuing with the telling of his daily regimen. "My work hours vary depending on the rush. Normally I'm able to get home by around nine. Isabella and dinner is waiting for me when I reach. We don't talk really. I go to my room to sleep -if work allows it- and Isabella goes to the office."

"Oh, you two sleep separately," Jasper notes, "How long has this been going on for?"

Edward shrugs, "The past several months. I can't pinpoint the exact one."

"Have you been intimate since," he queries.

I can feel the heat in my cheeks as I avoid Edward's eyes, "No."

Truth told I can't remember the last time I even kissed Edward. What had once started off as something unbridled and passionate soon became controlled and…professional. We can't even have sex without either arguing halfway through, or one of us falling asleep.

Yah, I know, it's _that _bad.

"Alright, Bella," Jasper encourages, "It's your turn."

"My days pretty much the same," I say, "I get ready, Edward's already gone. Sometimes I have to stop by work in the middle of the day. His sister and I always have lunch together though, every day around twelve. I run some errands, do any extra work, and then I go home to prepare dinner. If I know he's coming home in time I wait for Edward so we can eat together. We do talk it's just that it always ends in a fight."

"So most of your dinners end in conflict," he reiterates.

"Basically," I confirm.

The doctor takes the moment to write in his notebook, making light scratches here and there as if he were drawing. I take the moment to glance at my phone where Tanya has sent me a text.

_Victoria is losing her shit today. She just chewed Angela out for the template –the same template we've been using for the past 20 years….Your staff is in a mess, come back quick! _

I shove my phone into my pocket, and release a sigh, "I'm really sorry, but something's going on at work. I'm going to have to excuse myself."

"Oh," Jasper says, visibly disappointed. You could have sworn I just told him I ran over his dog. "Well, let me give you two your homework. It's quite simple really. For the next five weeks, you two will alternate asking chores of each other. One day Edward will be the asker, and the next you will be. The person responding has the choice to say 'no'; however, if they do say this than they lose one day of asking. These have to be reasonable, nonsexual requests, as well as you still need to use your manners."

"Does it count if he asks for a divorce," I quirk.

Jasper snickers, "No. That doesn't count."

"Then I will see you next session," I nod before heading towards the door, "See you at the house Edward."

**-o- **_**Monday 9:03 pm **_**-o- **

"Can you please pass the pepper," Edwards asks.

"You do realize this asking thing isn't starting until tomorrow right," I tease as I pass him the bottle.

Edward shakes his head at me, not amused. "Dr. Whitlock said I'm starting tomorrow."

"Fine by me," I shrug, "No asking for funny stuff, Edward."

"Well, damn. I was really going to ask you to dress in a chicken suit and pose for me," he says, the most serious expression on his face.

"That's some kinky shit Edward," I mutter.

Then the weirdest thing happens. He laughs.

And what's even weirder? I laugh too.

I slap my hand to my mouth almost as if I can't believe what I just did. Edward looks at me oddly, surprised as well. The reality that we never joke any more hits me more than it has before. Somewhere in this hate and this fury all we managed to do was _one_ thing together; create a vortex that sucked up all the innocent fun. The moment felt good. I'd actually begun to think that we had a chance. And then he ruined it.

"Why were you late today," he questions. The thing is that he doesn't say it accusingly, but I take it as the start to an interrogation.

"I told you, work," I defend immediately.

"Why do you do that," he sighs.

"Do what Edward," I can feel the tension begin to drip back into my body. I gulp the remains of my wine, and reach for the glass for a refill. Edward moves the bottle from my reach.

"You shouldn't be drinking so much of this while you're on antidepressants."

"I can't take it _with_ the medication, they said nothing about taking it hours after," I object.

"You already had a glass," he corks the bottle, "I think that's enough."

"Yah, well I think I don't care what you think," I glare before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

Before I can even cross the threshold, Edward's body is blocking the portal. I give him a shove, fighting to get through the door. Honestly, I don't want the wine that much because if I did I would seriously have to consider attending the next AA meeting. Truthfully, I'm fighting _just_ for the fact that it's Edward stopping me.

"Don't tell me what to do," I bark, "I'm not a child."

"Then stop acting like one," he admonishes loudly.

"This isn't how it works Edward," I stab a finger in his chest, "You don't get to decide when you want to act like my husband."

"Well I have to start somewhere," he throws his hands up, "So I'm starting now. No more wine, Isabella."

Our eyes stayed locked for several moments, both of us gauging the seriousness of the other. I'm tempted shove him again, but my anger is slowly dying down. With my red haze clearing I can see just how childish I'm being. Granted, I won't admit this to Edward. I would rather get liposuction on a local anesthetic than admit that I'm wrong to Edward. Instead I turn my back on him, and head to my room. If Edward wants to start acting like a husband then fine, I'll let him.

…Now I just need to figure out how to act like a wife.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Still want to throw Edward into a fire? Tell me about it! I love your reviews,<br>~CH


	4. Wishing, Wanting, and Waterworks

***hides behind laptop* so i know i've been incredibly horrible at posting, but my exams were this past week so i was completely restricted to studying, studying, studying. as much as i wish it weren't, school is currently my priority in life. so here it is! the fourth chapter. Hopefully i didn't lose you all?  
>Enjoy reading :) and please remember to review! <strong>

**Ashes, Records, and Window Panes **

**Chapter 4: Wishing, Wanting, and Waterworks **

**WEEK TWO**

**-o- **_**Sunday 4:32 pm **_**-o- **

I balance the stack of newspapers in my hands along with the office supplies, groceries and three packages. Reaching down, I pluck up the keys from the door mat, and master grabbing my handbag with my teeth. Five minutes later I finally manage to get through the entrance.

"…Swear it took a shorter time to knock down the freaking wall of Berlin…" I complain as I finally drop my things on the nearest table. I nearly dance at the fact that I get the rest of the night off, and a chance for some alone time. A night of wine and House reruns seems too good to be true. As I begin to loosen my tight bun, I freeze as I hear rustling in the kitchen.

"Edward," I call. No reply.

Curious, I walk towards the sounds. But since I'm not stupid a woman like the way horror movies try to portray us as, I grab Edward's Callaway. I mean I can't hit a golf ball, but I'm sure a human is a much easier target. Channeling my inner CSI (Seattle?), I walk with my back against the wall before jumping out to face the perpetrator.

"Ha!" I scream.

"Shit," Edward cusses before yanking out his headphones.

"What are you doing home," I squeal, lowering my weapon.

"What are you doing with my 12 degree," he shrieks, removing the club from me.

"I had your twelve degree because you're home," I answer.

"You were going to club me?" his voice returns to a medium, the shock of our confrontation gone. Well, the shock of me touching his golf club…

"No," I glare, "I was going to club the person who I thought was breaking into our house."

"So you confront them with a 'ha'?" Edward raises a brow.

I stick my tongue out as I walk past him, having noticed the brewing pot. I take a look inside, and shut the pot immediately, choking on the sour smell. Inside is a liquid of the oddest shade of red, slightly congealed and textured with foreign spices. Below its surface lived things unidentifiable to man.

"…the hell, Edward," I cough.

He rubs the back of his neck as he flicks the stove off, throwing the pot a sheepish glance, "I, um, tried to make dinner."

"Eh, good attempt," I scrunch my nose as I transfer the pot to the sink, "Though really, why are you home? Or more importantly, why are you home, and trying to burn the house down?"

"Hardy har har," Edward scowls, "Chief forced me to take the day off. He says if I keep overdoing work he's going to make me sit out on surgeries; thinks I'm going to pass out or something. Are you off today?"

I raise a brow as I pluck an apple from the fruit bowl, "When did we get a fruit bowl?"

"My mother sent it," he waves me off, "Did you get the night off?"

"Your mom sent us a fruit bowl," my eyes squint in confusion, "Wait- so when did we start putting fruit in the fruit bowl-,"

"It honestly isn't that important," Edward interrupts, "Do you have the night off?"

"Yes," I finally answer, "And you do too?"

"That's what I said," he confirms, "How'd you manage that?"

"I murdered my boss," I snicker evilly before viciously biting into the apple.

Edward rolls his eyes before plucking the apple from my hand and sinking his teeth in, "Don't eat too much. We're ordering in."

I steal back my fruit, "Fine. But you're calling."

"No sir," he smiles, "It's my day of requests. Isabella, can you please call the Chinese restaurant?"

"You know what Edward? You can take a Chinese menu and shove it-," I threaten.

"Is that a 'no' I hear," he places a hand to his ear obnoxiously. I snap my teeth at his fingers as he tries to take back my apple. He gets a devious grin on his face, "Isabella, may I please have your apple?"

"There are six other apples in that fruit basket," I motion to the perfectly good ones behind me, "Can't you take one of those?"

"Are you rejecting me," he feigns shock.

"I was simply asking you something Edward," I say curtly.

"But you see," he murmurs as he leans forward, "I want that particular apple."

"Okay," I agree before dropping into the garbage disposal and flicking on the magic, little red switch, "Go get it."

I take sick satisfaction in the way Edward's mouth pops open.

"How is that not considered a rejection," Edward gawks as I begin it skip away from the kitchen, humming a discordant tune.

I bask in Edward's glare, "Well," I smile coyly, "Technically, it wasn't a 'no'."

**-o- **_**Sunday 6:47 pm **_**-o- **

"This is awkward," I comment, staring into my carton.

"Have you always been so brutally honest," Edward asks.

"I just tell it how it is," I shovel a load of rice into my mouth.

"What exactly about this is awkward," Edward motions to the scene around us. Here we are sitting, watching old reruns of House as if nothing had changed in the past few years. He sits to one side of the couch while I sit on the extreme other. The only thing that is making contact between the two of us is the blanket covering our feet. However it is hard to share a blanket with a person you're trying so hard not to touch.

"By now we would be threatening to slit each other's throat," I remind him.

"Actually, by now we'd be out of the house," he corrects me, "The life threatening normally starts around nine-thirty."

"Stop trying to crack jokes with me," I throw my pillow in his direction, "You're not funny."

"Yahbecause I was completely joking about the life threatening," he rolls his eyes, "What do you want me to do? Do you want me to create a fight just to make you feel better?"

"I'm just so used to being pissed at you," I admit, "You're unbearable."

"You're not exactly fresh daisies either," he mutters.

"So you mean to tell me you're completely comfortable right now," I raise a brow.

"Hell no," he scoffs, "but I'm not saying anything."

"Saying anything about what," I press.

"The _annoying _things you keep doing like tugging the blanket," Edward points out.

"I wouldn't tug the blankets if I actually had some," I say.

"Then ask like any normal human being would for some," he replies.

"I'm sorry," I snide, "Edward, oh gracious provider, would you please spare me some of your blanket?"

"Are you seriously trying to make us fight," Edward asks, "Because you're the one who wanted all of this, and now that I'm putting in the effort you're backing out with cold feet -no pun intended."

I open my mouth to say something, but stop because even though I won't tell him he is, Edward is absolutely right.

"Ugh," I place my head in my hand, "I'm so immature."

"Yah," Edward sips his beer, "You are."

"Thanks," I take the beer from his hand, and take a swig, "Payback for the apple."

He shrugs as he takes my carton from my hand and begins to dig into my chicken. Soon we're engaged in this stupid war of trying to take each other's items from each other. It first begins with the food, but as the battle progresses we begin to get more strategic. Throughout dinner Edward manages to steal my hair clip, my cell phone, and the remote. I only get away with taking his watch, and three wontons. That in its self is a feat though. Edward has a thing about his wontons.

I reach for my (returned) carton, and search for the other half to my set of chopsticks.

I glare, "At least steal both of them."

"Where's the fun in that," he chuckles.

"You're starving me," I complain. He rolls his eyes as he hands back the chopstick, muttering something about me being delusional…

Halfway through the next House episode I feel myself begin to relax. Edward and I have finally called a truce, so I can watch the show with my guard down. The jittery feeling in my body has slowly dissolved, and I begin to feel like I don't need to re-dose myself with Buspar. Granted Edward and I aren't making passionate love (gross) or anything, but we aren't fighting. That is more than a small feat. My toes lie dangerously close to his ankle, and if I just twitch them, I can feel the hair of Edward's leg stand up against my toe tip.

"Would you stop doing that," he mumbles absentmindedly, "You're freaking me out."

I roll my eyes as I return my eyes to the episode of House where Cuddy finds that baby in some random place. I try to focus, but know that if I do I'll probably get upset by the end of the episode. It's been more than a year, but the emotions are still pretty raw. I see mothers with their children, and babies crying and it's like I can almost feel my stomach bleeding all over again. And I know that Edward feels the same pain as me, but I also know that he can never fully understand what it felt like to lose that bond inside of you. It was like I knew her life was gone in that instant and there was nothing I could do about it.

I watch his face as the baby cries, and want more than anything to just reach out and hold his hand just this once. On every other issue in our marriage we were feeling on different levels, but I know for this storm, we both are on the same page. Because as I watch Edward as he watches the baby, there is no doubt in my mind that it affects him too. For the smallest of moments, I swear that his eyes water and I know I'm not alone. So as he flicks off the TV and prepares to get up, I can't stop myself from asking about it. I need to know. Without Dr. Whitlock, without his supervision and mediating, I need to know Edward's answer.

"Do you think about her too," I ask.

He looks at me questioningly, but I know he comprehends perfectly.

"Addie," I manage to whisper her name, "Do you think about Addie?"

The look in Edward's eyes can only be described as amorphous. It has no shape, no definition, no specific meaning, or name. But he holds my gaze with so much confidence, that I know I can never doubt the feeling that is expressed in those green orbs.

"Every day," he finally says.

We don't say anything as we go to our separate rooms for the night. Somehow I know that all that needed to be said has been said, and that all my questions about Edward's grief have been answered in my mind. And although I go to bed with a sick feeling in my stomach, I know that it hasn't come from what transpired between Edward and me. When I close my eyes, I have to bite my lips to keep from smiling in satisfaction. Edward and I had just danced near fire, and we didn't even get burned.

**-o- **_**Monday 2:03 am **_**-o- **

That bitch poisoned me.

I retch the last of what could possibly be in my stomach from tonight's Chinese food. I flush the remains of the wontons (and rice, and chicken, and noodles, and vegetables...and I wonder why I'm sick?) disgustedly, and begin to plan ways to successfully murder Edward. I know he dislikes me, but poisoning? This is low for him. This isn't Grand Canyon low, or even 'the pants on that kid who gives us our newspaper' kind of low. This is Mariana Trench low. If he thinks I'm going to just take this then he doesn't know me.

Game on.

I march to the guest bedroom, fully prepared to rip him out of his bed…except he would actually have to be in his bed in order for me to do that. I do a mini scavenger hunt of the room (I even look under the bed), but the returning nausea is making it a difficult task. As my stomach clenches again I race to the bathroom, only to trip over some obstacle.

"Is," Edward mutters. I wonder if he is actually trying to say my name or the third form of the verb 'to be.'

I empty my stomach in the bathtub beside me, unable to reach the toilet that Edward has curled up next to. I spend the next few minutes reacquainting myself with porcelain before my body decides it's done. I know I must be really sick because I end up putting my head on Edward's burning hot skin. I don't move since he's so warm, and I feel so cold. Surely he didn't try to poison me, or else he wouldn't be in the same predicament as me –unless he failed epically.

Alright, so I take back what I said about murdering him…for now.

"Edward," I groan, "Ed-ward."

"Shut up," he moans, rolling over.

"W-we're sick," I poke him lamely, "Do something."

"Like what."

Twelve years of medical studies and this is what he gives me?

"Give," I say before taking a break to breathe, "me your phone. I know…you sleep with it."

I can feel the fumbling of his hand as he detaches the phone from the holder on his boxers. I grumble as I wait for the call to go through. He doesn't answer at first…or at second…or at third, but on the fourth call he finally picks up. "Jake."

"This better not be a prank call Edward," Jake yawns, "Or I will reach up your ass-."

"It's Bella," I say.

"Whoa," he sounds more aware, "What happened? I'll be there in two seconds."

"Food…poisoning," I mumble, "Yes please."

Somewhere between the time of me failing to hang up, and Jake arriving with Tanya, I've fallen asleep. My dreams consist of me standing on top of Edward's car, singing and dancing to Mama Mia show tunes while Tanya cooks bacon. Never mind the fact that I'm dressed in a chicken costume.

Okay yes, mind the fact that I'm in a chicken suit.

When I regain consciousness, I'm in a whole other location, dressed in a new set of pajamas and tucked into my own bed. To say I'm confused is the understatement of the year. Sadly, not only am I confused, but I'm also disappointed that the bacon seems to have vanished.

"Where's," I grumble, but trail off lamely.

"I'm right here, Bella," I hear Tanya comfort.

"Tanya," I sigh, "Where's…the bacon?"

"…There's no bacon here," she chuckles, "Is that what you dreamed about?"

I nod tiredly. "Chinese food," I mumble as I nod off again, "Weirdest shit ever."

**-o- **_**Monday 4:16 pm **_**-o-**

A short knock sounds at the door, announcing Edward's entrance. He shuffles into the room, cocooned in a duvet. He moves all the way to the edge of my bed, and then tips forward. The mass of his body pushes me into the mattress while the fabric of his blanket attempts to suffocate me.

"You're…obnoxious," I muffle.

He rolls slightly, freeing me from his weight, "How're you?

"I haven't puked in half an hour," I shrug, "You?"

"Dealing," he yawns.

I wait a few seconds, wondering what it is that he wants.

"…So…" I trail.

"What," he turns to face me.

"Well, we're in bed together," I point out.

"Isabella," Edward rolls his eyes, "We're sick for Christ's sake, there's no way we could have sex-."

I smack him weakly, "No. I mean, why are you in here?"

"You have the only room with a TV and bed," he reminds me.

Oh.

I turn away from him so he doesn't see the disappointment on my face. Despite the vomit fest we had afterwards, I wouldn't change anything from last night. Last night makes me think that Edward and I really can be normal with each other. Granted the only things we say are somehow insulting, or teasing. But I would trade in all of the hurt that we normally dish out on each other for that. So when Edward comes, and flops into my bed, I think that maybe…just maybe he wants to spend time with me.

If I had a dime for every time I'm wrong….

"You could have taken the couch in the family room. You still can," I hint.

Edward hesitates before saying, "Okay to be honest, I wanted to come in here. What's the point in being sick alone?"

I try to force my smile away before I roll over to face him, but it doesn't seem to want to fade.

**WEEK THREE**

**-o- **_**Wednesday 1:13am **_**-o- **

I stare at the oddly shaped tablets lying on the table. I could do one of two things; I could empty the bottle of wine next to me, or I could take my third dosage of antidepressants. Unfortunately, I can't do both. Well, not unless I want to die. The thing is that both of them will cause my nerves to slow, and my hands to stop shaking. None of them will bring Edward back.

My phone vibrates,

"Edward," I nearly yell into the phone.

"No, it's just me," Tanya replies, "He hasn't come home?"

"No," I groan, "What did Jake say?"

"He hasn't seen him since…" I hear the tears threatening to come through, "He said the only thing that Edward said to him on the phone was, 'I'm blue.' It's plain as day that he's drunk. We went to the bar he normally goes to, but they said he'd left already. I don't know where he is Bella, I'm so scared."

"I'm blue," I repeat to myself, knowing that the phrase sounds familiar.

"_This is beautiful," I skipped down the wooden stretch, scaring the rendezvousing birds. _

"_Well, I'm sure the birds thought it was too," Edward chuckled as he helped me to sit. We argued for a good four minutes about whether I should be able to swing my legs over the edge, and I won. _

"_I'm pregnant for God sake," I said, "Not motor challenged." _

"_Yes, but you're not the one who will have to rescue a large woman from the water," he pointed out. _

_I pouted, peeved by what he said, "It's not like I just gained weight for fun, Edward." _

"_I'm sorry," he kissed my puckered lips; "You were beautiful, you are beautiful, and you will always be beautiful." _

"_Yah, kiss up to me," I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "I still don't like Seattle, but I'll admit this is nice." _

_He pressed a kiss to my forehead before pressing a kiss to my five-month bulge, "Do you like this too Addie? We'll come here whenever you want. When you're happy, when you're upset, or when you're just plain blue." _

"Bella," Tanya yells, "What are we going to do? We can't press a missing persons report because it's too soon. Should we go back out and look for him? This is so unlike him."

"Tanya," I stop her, "I'll call you back when we get home okay? I know where Edward is."

**-o- **_**Wednesday 12:30 pm **_**-o- **

"I hate to be so frank," Jasper says, "but you two look like shit."

If I could muster it I would laugh and joke along with. But the truth is that I have so much anger stored in me that's just waiting to erupt in one big mess of ugly. I'm stuck between wanting to strangle Edward, and wanting to give up on this marriage -or maybe just both. I sneak a glance at Edward, and feel a sick satisfaction at how horrible he looks.

"So," doctor sighs, "What happened?"

We both remain quiet. I can't speak because I'm positive if I do I will never be able to walk into these facilities again. Edward doesn't speak because, well, he's Edward. I can feel him looking at me as if he can gauge what I'm about to do from visual observation. I hope he can feel how angry I am at him. I hope he can feel all of my disappointment.

"I don't think," I clear my throat, "that therapy is the best thing for me today."

Jasper nods, "Why is that?"

"Because I might possibly kill Edward," I fold my shaking hands together.

"This is because Edward missed yesterday's session," he guesses.

"No, it's not even about that," I correct him, "Well yes, and no."

"I'm not sure I follow," Jasper says.

"I understand why Edward missed the lesson," I elaborate, "and I even understand why he didn't call me. A patient died on his table yesterday, and this is only the second time this has happened to him. So I don't blame him -I'd take that kind of shit hard too. But then he goes AWOL, drinking at the bar, then driving, and then sitting on the dock. No one knows where he is. Then I'm worrying the hell out of myself when I figure out where he is," I close my eyes, remembering how frantic and lost I'd felt when I couldn't even think of the places Edward could be.

I don't know him anymore. I don't know where Edward even likes to spend his time. Where does he go when he's happy? Where does he go when he's grieving? Does he always go to the docks?

"And then, Bella," Jasper encourages, "What happened?"

"When I get to him he's passed out lamely even though I have to say that's better than floating in the water. I get his drunken ass in the car after him throwing up. All the while I'm not even upset with him. I'm upset with myself. The only thing I could think about for that whole journey is the fact that Edward, my husband, preferred to drink himself into oblivion, drive drunk, _and _nearly fall into a harbor instead of just talking to me about what was going on."

"So why are you upset with him now?"

"This morning I thought about what happened even more. Then this anger started to build at a frightening rate until I couldn't even speak anymore," my voice starts its crescendo while my body begins to quiver from the rage. "I wanted to think about you, but all I could think about was me, me, _me._ Why am I not good enough for you? Why should I care whether I'm good enough for you? When will you start caring about me? When will you love me too?"

The room is silent when my rant finishes. I can feel my heart beat wildly until it begins to settle and level, bringing me back down from my anger induced high. The seat deflates beneath me as I drop into it, holding a hand to my thumping chest. I wonder if everyone in the room can hear it.

"Bella," Jasper asks, "Are you okay?"

"Put your head between your knees," Edward instructs.

"No thank you," I close my eyes, and count to ten before fumbling for my bag. "If you'll excuse me -I'll be right back."

I leave the two men in the room with the honest intention of returning. Though as I walk away from the office, I just keep walking, and walking. I walk until I've made my way down the stairs, and out of the building. I don't know where I'm going, or when I'll get there, but it doesn't matter. I'm getting away from Edward, and that's an achievement for me.

I find myself at the side of the building a few minutes later, leaning against the cold wall. I pop the cap of the vial in my bag, and dish out a few of the magic pills. I consider taking them dry, but I know that won't work with such large pills.

"Shit," I curse as I throw the pills back in my bag. I run my fingers across my confined hair, and throw out another cuss word. What's wrong with me?

"Isabella," Edward rounds the corner.

"Can you go away Edward," I growl, "And that's a request."

"No," he refuses.

"If you don't you're going to lose a day of asking," I roll my eyes, "I know how much you love those."

"I don't care," he shrugs, "but I do care about you. You just make it so damn difficult."

"If you cared about me you wouldn't have done what you did last night," I accuse.

"Don't," Edward mutters, "Don't do that."

"Do what," I ask.

"Don't judge my feelings for you by the mistakes I make," he shakes his head, "you have no idea."

"Edward," I start, "Last night was kind of eye opening to me. I worried so much for you that it scares me. And it's so confusing because I can't stand being around you, but I can't stand it when you're not okay. I thought that you could be lying somewhere dying, and I _hurt." _

His hands brush against my cheeks, his fingers spanning over my face. His calloused thumbs skate over my skin, catching the tears I hadn't known had fallen. Water fills where his green orbs are, and his lips tremble as he speaks.

"She was a passenger in a car crash," he says, "her spine was almost completely severed, not to mention the internal bleeding was heavy. She had a swollen frontal lobe, shattered ribs, and a punctured left ventricle. Logically, I know that I couldn't have saved her, but I couldn't accept that."

"You did everything you could," I whisper.

He leans his forehead against mine, shutting his eyes to stop the flow of tears. They pass the barrier of his eyelashes, and drip onto my own cheeks, meshing with my tears.

"She had the curliest brown hair," he finishes, "and she was three years old. God, I miss her so much, and I never knew her."

"I know, Edward," I murmur as I press a kiss to his forehead, "I know."

**-o- **_**Saturday 12:33 pm **_**-o- **

I look at the pamphlet in my hand, and snort. Sure, Edward and I have made progress over the past few weeks, but we certainly aren't ready for this. Especially since every step forward we take we always end up in a fight that seems to shove us back. However I can safely say that I don't _hate _him, it's a given that I still strongly dislike him most of the time. But this experience is helping me to see the Edward that there was before. He's rusty, abused, and used, but he's still the Edward I married; somewhere deep, deep, _deep, _underneath it all.

Along the way I've also come to terms with the fact that I'm not forty percent to blame for what's happened in this relationship. I have always counted myself partially responsible for the trials and tribulations of this marriage, but if I'm completely honest with myself I know that I put a majority of the blame on Edward. Why? Because literally and metaphorically speaking, it's so much easier to point your finger at someone else than to face it at yourself.

"I think you two are ready for this," Jasper says.

"Didn't you witness the colossal fight on Wednesday," I ask him.

He chuckles, but my face remains still. I wasn't making a joke.

"Yes I did," he nods, "but I also see that you haven't scooted your chair away from Edward this session."

"There's a difference between sitting next to each other and locking ourselves in a cabin in the middle of nowhere," Edward scoffs.

"It's a highly credited couples retreat area," Jasper rolls his eyes, "It's only three and a half hours from Seattle."

"That's three and a half hours too far," I mutter.

"What is the point of this," Edward questions, "It's not like the change of scenery will affect anything. Wouldn't it be more productive to continue sessions here?"

"You'd be surprised," Jasper raises a brow, "What exactly do you two fear happening there? Fighting? You have no qualms with doing it here."

I glare, "I don't know if I can spend so much time…confined in a small space with him."

"Even though you expect to remain married," Jasper rolls his eyes, "What were you planning on doing, avoiding him for the rest of your marriage?"

Maybe?

I sigh, "No."

"Exactly," Jasper says, "Edward, I already talked to your work. They are more than happy to give you the next week off. They even asked for you to take two weeks."

"No," Edward almost yells, "Just a week -please."

"I know you love your work," Jasper chortles, "but you both need a clean, and healthy, non-stressful environment to work out differences and appreciate each other. So on Monday, you will drive to the resort where you will enjoy the facilities and connect. You will stay for a week, in the same room -on separate bedding if you like -and every night before you go to bed you must pay each other one compliment."

"Whoa," I cough, "Compliment, Edward?"

"It's not that hard," Edward smiles, "See. Isabella, I really love the way your maturity level hasn't grown in the past three years."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"My point," Edward says smugly.

"Enough you two," Jasper referees, "You're worse than my teenagers. All the information you need is in those packages. Be sure to pack warm clothes, I'm told it's chilly."

I feel the urge to wrap my fingers around Jasper's neck as he smiles at us. Next week is going to be awfully interesting.

Or maybe just awful.

* * *

><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to kill the characters? Tell me about it!<br>~CH


	5. Knowing, Nurturing, and Natural Disaster

**...you have complete rights to hate me for not updating ...i'm sorry D:, hopefully you guys are still there reading? Yah? Maybe you'll even be merciful and review? Yah?  
>~pretty please?<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 5: Knowing, Nurturing, and Natural Disasters**

**WEEK FOUR**

**-o- **_**Monday 7:58 pm **_**-o-**

"Do you even know where we are?"

Edward ignores me, but tightens his grip on the steering wheel. I cross my arms in a huff, peeved that he refuses to just use the GPS we paid good money to install. The roads are dark, and the signs are hiding behind the greenery. Every now and again I see the movement of wildlife flittering in the trees. This would all seem enchanting if we hadn't been driving for the past four hours. To avoid grabbing for the wheel, I take a more passive approach and begin to hum along to the radio. I can see the annoyance forming on Edwards face, and it only serves to please me.

I hum louder.

"Can you please stop that," Edward grits through his teeth.

"Sure thing," I pinch his cheek roughly.

Regardless, I keep on humming solely because Edward is really too pussy to take away a day of my requests, especially since I let him have his on Thursday. It sounded stupid, hell it still sounds stupid, but to have that control over your spouse, even for a day, was sickly satisfying. I could make him perform the most menial tasks, and he couldn't refuse. Granted I got a shit load of complaints, but so did he. Having heard enough of my off tune humming, Edward violently flicks off the radio.

"Someone's awfully annoyed," I cluck.

"You do know that you're twenty-nine, and not nineteen," Edward asks, "Right?"

"If we were nineteen we'd be having a lot more fun than this right now," I say under my breath.

"What were we even doing at nineteen," he scratches his head.

"You were probably studying," I roll my eyes; "I was probably getting creative somewhere."

"Getting high is not creative," Edward corrects.

I kick my feet up on the dashboard, ignoring Edward's protests as I close my eyes and tune him out. I think about the stupid things we did as teenagers; things that I'm not exactly proud of, but I definitely don't regret.

A wicked smile forms on my face, "Do you remember the time we went skinny dipping?"

"_Get in the water Edward," I yelled from the lake. _

"_No way in hell," he shouted back, "I'm not getting my penis chomped off." _

"_By what, a tadpole," I laughed, splashing water in his direction, "And FYI: nobody calls it a penis." _

"_That's its proper name," Edward argued. _

"_You're such a prude," I teased, "Come on. I'll close my eyes, I promise." _

_ Edward hesitated, looking around him before peeling off his blue jersey. I didn't even pretend I wasn't peeking. He stood in all his half naked glory, striking an Adonis pose for me. He didn't look too far from it. _

"_You're stalling pretty boy." _

"_Turn around," he whined._

_ I glared at him before turning to face the opposite side of the lake. The water rippled around me as he entered the dark pool. I could hear his staggered breathing along with his muttering of complaints. I only chuckled, Edward was such a pussy. _

"_See, that wasn't so bad," I turned around, expecting to see his frowning face. Instead I was met with an empty space before me. "Edward?" _

_A hand grabbed at my foot, tugging me underneath the murky surface. _

"I was not a pussy," Edward objects.

"Edward, the first time you got drunk you started crying because you worried about what Esme would do to you," I remind him, "and you were nineteen years old."

"I was crying because I was drunk," he rolls his eyes, "big difference."

"Not really," I say under my breath, "Are we lost?"

"For the last time," Edward glares, "We're not lost."

**-o- **_**Monday 9:18pm **_**-o-**

We walk through the dimly lit room, dressed in our formal wear. The waitress leads us through the aisle until we reach the booth that Edward had requested. She keeps shooting him these implicating looks that make me want to snap at her. I refrain because I don't want to make a total fool out of myself.

But let's just say she didn't trip on accident.

Before we sit, I stop Edward, making a fuss over his tie as the waitress leaves.

"Isabella, I do my own ties to go to work every morning," Edward swats at my hands, "There isn't any problem with it now."

"Then maybe I shouldn't let you dress yourself," I mutter, as I loosen the monstrosity.

"Don't mess it up," he grumbles.

"Trust me, I can't do it any worse than you have," I tighten the tie up to his neck, choking him slightly before loosening it a bit.

Flower designs are engrained in the table, swirling and growing along its surface. I trace my fingers around the trail, following the way it continues along the tabletop. Edward clears his throat, asking for my attention.

"By the way you were bickering in the room I was under the impression you were starving," Edward raises a brow.

"I was bickering because you got us lost for an hour," I say calmly as I reach for the wine listings.

"Of course," he rolls his eyes, "You reach for the wine first."

"Well, they do ask you for your drinks first, Edward," I smile.

We sit in silence until the waitress comes back for our drink and food orders. I could say that the silence isn't awkward, but I'd be lying. Mouths open in attempts to start conversation, but it's all wasted energy. I have a feeling we're both worried about creating a fight in such a public place. I wouldn't put it past us.

Edward sighs, "We really are quite the conversationalists."

"I agree," I nod as I bring my wine to my lips, "How was work when you went in this morning?"

"Fine," he says, "I wasn't allowed to do anything though. I just had to pick up some files."

"I have to say, I love Aro," I tell him, "I've never met a boss that is so insistent on employee wellbeing."

"Yah, I suppose Victoria isn't the model for that," he chuckles.

I groan in response.

"She can't be that bad," he says.

"She told me, and I quote, '_What are you here for Isabella? If you can't do something simple like sift the gold out of the crap then what am I paying you for?,_" I help myself to another mouthful of Chateau Lafite. "She gave me the go ahead for that dog section, and now she's criticizing my credentials?"

"Hey, even I know that you have a mad talent in this business," Edward agrees, "I've read some of your columns. You write superbly. As for the dog column, I thought it was genius. It made me want to get a dog."

I laugh, "I don't know why we never did that."

"Me neither," he shakes his head, "You know, Cauliflower died the other day."

I gasp, "I'm so sorry. I know how much he meant to you. Hell, I loved the little home wrecker too."

"Yah," he nods solemnly, "He was old. Esme called me; she was pretty distraught over it. Carlisle went out and got her a puppy. It's a girl."

"What did they name it," I chuckled, "Broccoli?"

Edward's face is plain as he gives me a look.

"Seriously," I laugh, "That's adorable. I think we should name ours Mango, just to go with the flow."

"How is Mango going with the flow," Edward laughs, "and we're getting a dog?"

I shrug, "Okay, so maybe I just like the name Mango."

"None of us can keep that responsibility," he sighs, "You're out for most of the day, work the night, and I'm not home until nine…it'll be so lonely."

"It can be a lap dog. I'll take it to the office with me, Victoria does it all the time," I lean forward, pleading, "Please, Edward."

"Are you pouting?"

"Will pouting work?" I ask.

"We'll think about it," he says, "And if we do we're not naming it Mango."

"Why not," I whine.

He rolls his eyes, ignoring me completely. "…You know, Mom asked about you too."

I cough on my wine, "Oh, really?"

"Yah," he runs a hand through his hair, "She wanted to know when you are going to visit."

"So she doesn't know about…"I trail.

Edward shakes his head slowly, almost as if he's cautious of my reaction, "I'm sorry-,"

"No," I cut him off, "I didn't tell mine either. I didn't want to give them more ammunition to fire at you. I meant to tell you that I'm sorry for the way they treat you. I honestly didn't realize. If I had noticed earlier I would have defended you. I mean no one deserves that treatment, but you don't especially. You pour your all into your work, and your passion practically bleeds into what you do -no pun intended. That's something I admire about you."

This time it's Edward's turn to cough on his drink; "Wow."

"Don't say it," I hide my pink cheeks behind my hands.

"Isabella Marie Masen just complimented _me,_" his smile is wide, crooked, and I'll admit handsome; "I have to say, it feels good."

The shade of my cheeks intensifies, "Shut up, Edward."

**-o- **_**Tuesday 7:05 am **_**-o-**

Whiteness is all I can see as I shift in the luxurious comforters. I'm a little disappointed that I woke up so early, but I can't say it surprises me. I roll over and face where Edward's separate bed is. Smooth is his normally wrinkled forehead, and his pink, thin lips are slightly parted. He looks so tranquil. It's a shame I'm going to wake him up.

"Edward," I crawl onto the bed beside him, "Oh, Edward."

"Go…away," he grumbles.

"Nuh, uh," I murmur, "It's my asking day. Can you please come on a morning walk with me?"

"No," he says, "I don't care -take my turn."

I hit him, "If I get a turn tomorrow I'll just wake you up again, but earlier."

He groans, "Isabella please, I'm tired."

"We'll nap when we come back," I tug on his hand, "Please Edward? It's so pretty."

"Only on one condition," he says into the pillow, "I get to sleep in tomorrow."

"Deal," I smile, hopping off the bed to go get ready.

Twenty minutes later we begin our walk through the trails; me bright eyed, and Edward, well, you know how Edward is. The only sound comes from the shuffle and thump of our sneakers accompanied by nature's orchestra. I know Edward won't admit it, but he's happy he came on the walk too. We aren't talking, but that's okay. It's okay to just _be _sometimes.

In that moment when I look over at Edward's serene face I see the person I've been looking for. I don't get that clawing feeling that warns me to stay away anymore and truthfully it scares me. With Edward there aren't any boundaries; he has all the weapons he needs to completely destroy me. I just don't know if this time I'll be able to get back up again afterwards.

**-o- **_**Wednesday 3:53pm **_**-o-**

"You only won because you're musically inclined," I stick out my tongue at Edward as I put down the Guitar Hero instrument. Edward looks about as satisfied as a fed and sexed man. We replace the instruments and sit in the couch of the game room. The other couples have vacated the area, leaving Edward and me as the only ones there.

"Don't mope just because I beat you horribly," Edward teases smugly.

I smack his arm, "I did not lose horribly."

"A ten thousand point difference is losing horribly," he rolls his eyes, "just accept it."

"It's not fair though," I whine childishly, "You've been playing piano since you were in the fetal stages."

His face twists in confusion, "How would piano help me with this?"

I open my mouth, but don't actually have any way to answer this. I huff, "Whatever."

"It's okay," he laughs as he tucks a piece of my fallen hair behind my ear, "Next time I'll go easy on you."

I'm a little stunned by his affectionate gesture, but I don't mention it. I don't want Edward to think every time he touches me my ovaries start doing jumping jacks… although they do. I can't help but revel in the feeling of his fingertips, even if they're barely making contact with my skin. I don't want the path to stop there, but I know that I won't try anything until Edward shows he reciprocates my feelings completely. The only problem is what exactly my feelings are.

To say we've been getting along is both an understatement and an overstatement. We have a small spats dispersed along the day, but I realize that's just who we are together. We grind on each other's nerves in a way that's both endearing, and unbearably annoying. We're like an old machine; rickety and 96 percent of the time reliable.

I've begun to excavate the layers of Edward, realizing new things and uncovering the old. I begin to remember the small details about him that I had erased, and put new additions in my mental scrap book. It's funny how you can live under the same roof as a person and completely forget who they are. Not only that, but I'd become blind to what Edward has become. Or rather, I only focused on his recent negative traits. Each day I add something new to the compilation. Like today, I'm reminded of Edward's passion for music. I don't know how I could've forgotten seeing as it's one of the things that drew me to him. Then again, when was the last time Edward played the piano?

"Why don't you play anymore," I question, dipping my toes into deeper waters.

I can see the question catches him off guard, which doesn't help to ease its impact.

"I mean we don't exactly have a piano," he sighs, "and then it takes too much trouble to go out to find one. Nothing really compares to the one back home. I just…I guess I don't have the time."

It's when he says this that I vow to get Edward his music back.

**-o- **_**Thursday 6:23 pm **_**-o-**

"You are so damn annoying," Edward growls as he pushes his seat back.

"Then stop telling me what to do," I mutter before turning my direction to the much too interested bystander, "_Can we help you?_"

The person stutters before scampering off.

"I'm teaching you chess, that requires some instructing," he points out.

"Yah, instructing, not 'let's make Bella feel dumb,'" I shoot back.

"I'm not trying to make you feel dumb," he sighs, "If that's the way I came off, I apologize."

I turn my face from him, not liking that he always comes out of our fights seeming like the better person. I suppose that's because he is. "I think I'm going to go to the bar for a bit."

"Fine," he snaps, "Do what you want, I don't care."

I grab my purse and leave him at the table. If Edward wants to just discard me then so be it. I'm not going to sit and mope around in front of him.

I'm going to sit and mope in front of the bar.

I know this time that it's my fault for getting so snappy with him, but taking criticism isn't one of my strong suits if you haven't noticed. It's just that when Edward was telling me what to do I felt as if I was being talked down to. It didn't take long for me to become defensive and unpleasant. I consider turning around and apologizing, but I don't need to. Only after a short distance does a hand lock around my wrist.

He loosens his grip immediately as I stop walking, and forces me to face him. I would be angry about it if it weren't for the fact that all his movements are so damn gentle and lithe. His thumb finds its way under my chin, tipping my face to meet his. My womanly bits do a small polka as I'm absorbed by his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, completely entranced by the face before me. I want him to let go, but at the same I want him to hold onto me forever. It doesn't matter, the things he's done in the past. I'm willing to let them go. But am I willing to get hurt again? Am I willing to possibly hurt him again? No. I will never hurt Edward again.

"Don't," he shakes his head, "I was being stupid, and I lied to you. I do care."

**-o- **_**Friday 8:46am **_**-o- **

Edward messily piles his eggs, bacon, and sausages onto his waffle before wrapping it up taco stile, and taking a large bite. I want to say it's sexy and caveman, but I can't because truthfully it's disgusting.

I set down my knife and fork, "I sure hope you work on your patients with a little more finesse than that."

He grins at me, mouth full, "Wanna bite?"

I scrunch my nose before returning to my toast. I tear it in strips before methodically buttering it, and rolling it into little parcels.

"You're adorable," Edward comments with a smile.

"You're a creep," I roll my eyes, and continue eating.

Deep inside…okay no, at the very surface I'm loving every second of it. It's as if Edward has finally let his wall down. I've lowered mine as well, allowing myself to be vulnerable with him. I find us smiling more, or laughing more, or even just paying each other compliments. Normally the compliments are just small and random, but I prefer that to anything else. I wouldn't be able to stomach any food if Edward and I overdid it. That has never been our style.

"I know it's your day for requests but," Edward starts.

"We are not playing any more video games," I interrupt him, "This is our last night here, and I refuse to spend it getting my ass whooped at whatever tumor generator they supply here."

"No," he rolls his eyes, "I was going to ask if you want to go in the Jacuzzi tonight?"

My cheeks tinge pink. Why is it that it's only Edward who makes me blush? I clear my throat hoping that my reply won't sound meek and girly…_I am Bella, hear me roar! _

"The Jacuzzi," I squeak.

_Rawr. _

"Yah you know," he prompts, "Hot, water, bubble-bubble?"

I launch a piece of toast at him, sticking out my tongue, "I know what it is."

"Well you didn't sound too sure," he quirks.

"I was just validating," I huff, "This isn't any way to get me into my knickers Edward."

"I'm not trying to get you into your knickers," he sends the piece of toast back, hitting me square in the forehead, "Just a bikini."

Is there really any difference?

"Fine," I shrug, "I'm game."

**-o- **_**Saturday 4:56 am**_** -o-**

"When you said we were going in the Jacuzzi I thought you mean on Friday," I squawk. I stand on the outside of the steaming bowl, covered securely in my towel. The sky is still dark, but I can see that it's about to brighten.

"For God sakes, get in the water. You have to be freezing," Edward says, already positioned in the hot waters. I can see just the tops of his cream shoulders, the water sliding off of them as he bobs in and out of the pool.

"It's, uh, just that," I stutter, "Well…"

When was the last time I have been so bare in front of Edward?

"We've gone skinny dipping together as you so nicely pointed out," He reminds me, "This doesn't compare."

"Yes, but…things have changed since then," I argue, "Things have moved."

"Come on, Isabella," he rolls his eyes, "I already know you have a birthmark above your right ass cheek, and that you have a mole to the left of your belly button. Your right breast is larger than the other and when you blush, you blush _all _over."

I glare at him, "Fine," I strip the towel from me, "Happy?"

I catch the way his eyes scan over me as I sink into the water. It's not like I'm out of shape or anything, but it's not like I'm _in _shape. I don't really know what shape I am. I feel like the ugly duckling in comparison to him.

"Stop it," he unfolds my arms from my body, "You look beautiful."

My mouth pops open audibly. "Thank you."

We sit in the water, side by side, and just barely touching. His right side rests against my left side, while my entire body tingles from the contact. I inch closer, allowing our legs to touch before I lean my head against Edward's shoulder and watch the sky gain its confidence. The sun peeks, and then decides to make its grand appearance. The clouds cower away, as the sky transforms from its dark blue into purple and orange hues. Mountains reach into the sky, wanting to touch the beautiful display. Unfortunately they're left like us human spectators, only able to watch the untouchable splendor.

"Do you still have yours," Edward murmurs, breaking the silence, "Your tattoo."

I smile as I nod, "Yah I do."

"Can I see it," he asks.

"Well, uh, yah," I try to hide the change in my voice.

"You know for an editor you have an awful hard time with articulation," Edward jokes.

I laugh, "Well for a doctor, you sure don't have a lot of patience."

Edward stalls for a moment before letting out a dry laugh, "Very punny."

I rise from the water, letting it rush in rivulets off of my body. The air greets me as I turn towards Edward, showing him the small script attached to a butterfly. I know that underneath the water, on the right of his chest is a tattoo with the same name, almost matching the one on my hip. His fingers brush against the name, right before his heated lips come to contact with the skin. I'm surprised I'm able to lower myself back into the water without collapsing.

We are silent when I replace my head against his shoulder right until Edward breaks the silence again.

"Why do you keep your hair in a bun all the time," he asks

I fight to keep my attitude in check, even though I want to lash out at him. All this time, and he doesn't even remember.

"You don't remember?"

Edward shakes his head in reply, so I remind him.

_ We sat in the back of the taxi, watching as the street lights passed by. I tried to reach for Edward's hand, but he retracted it so quickly as if I'd burned him. He didn't talk to me for the majority of the ride, only replying in short answers. _

_ "What is wrong with you," I finally asked, coming from behind the shield of my hair. I tried to think of all the things I'd done for the night, wondering what I had done to make him so upset. I'd done everything I was supposed to; greet people the way he wanted, eat what he wanted, speak when he wanted. I failed to see where I had failed. _

"_Do you notice that you were the only woman with her hair out like," he tries to find the word, "Like a teenager?" _

"_What?" I practically squawked, "You're upset about my hair?" _

"_Yes, Bella," he said, "Would it kill you to grow up in the slightest?" _

"_Edward, you've never had a problem with my hair," I tried to hold back the tears that began to well. _

"_I didn't think you would wear it that way tonight," Edward argued, "I told you the function was formal Bella. Then you show up here in that dress and your hair like Fran from The Nanny. How did you think that was appropriate? How can I seem professional if my own wife dresses like that?" _

"_I'm sorry," I murmured as I forced myself to stare back out the window once more, "I didn't mean to embarrass you." _

Edward is unbelievably silent. I look up at him, wondering if he's been boiled to death, but he's very much alive. I expect him to say something, or to justify his past actions, but he doesn't. Instead, Edward reaches over to me, and grabs hold of my clip before taking it out, and throwing it off of the balcony. I close my eyes when his fingers run through my hair, making the long journey from my scalp down to my hips. The waves disappear into the water as do his hands. But they never actually let go of me as his hands transfer from my locks and onto my waist.

"Bella, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever met," he breathes, coming closer and closer to me. I want to shy away, I want to run, but I can't because I know I'll always come back to him no matter what he does. His knee goes between mine as he draws closer, and I can practically taste the air he's breathing out. "In any way you are, in any form. I'd become blind to that before. And how can a blind man truly know what a beauty is before him?"

I open my mouth to answer, but all that comes out is this, "Edward?"

"Yes," he answers.

"Can you please kiss me?"

Agonizingly slow my lips become captured in his, held securely and firmly, but all the same gently. The feeling is foreign, though at the same time familiar. It's been so long since I've felt these lips against mine, and I have to keep from hitting myself because I can't believe I forgot how this _felt. _Slow movements turn to slower and deeper movements, and I can just feel my heart pulsating with the jets of the Jacuzzi. A tongue slips out, his or mine I wouldn't know, and tastes the other. It's coming to a point where I don't know who is feeling what or whether I even want to know. I'm connected to him not only physically, but emotionally, and it's overwhelming. His fingertips begin at my hair line before brushing down the length of my body, drawing patterns against my tingling skin. I massage my hands over his broad shoulders, also using the leverage to pull me closer. Soon I'm no longer standing, but attached to his hips, my arms and legs keeping me anchored to him. My body shudders in appreciation.

His lips move against mine before detouring, lavishing my neck and collar bones. My shoulder, my chest, my arms and even finger tips, are all shown the appreciation of his kisses, left humming from the contact of his lips. I try to show him the same adoration, my hands stroking the underside of his eyelids, the soft of his ears, the slickness of his stomach. We reconnect at the mouth, hot breaths amplified by the steam around us.

A sound travels from his body to mine, showing that he wants me just as much too. It doesn't take long before I begin to thaw away in his arms, my body sliding along his. As his hands travel over me I can honestly say that not touching Edward, and not beingtouched by Edward is one of the greatest regrets of my life. How could I have lived for so long without this? How could I have ever, at any point, believed that this was passionless? I mutter incoherent things to him, wanting to tell him how much I love him and everything about him, but I'm too scared that he won't say it back. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I let go because there is no way I'm going to ruin this.

At some point we're standing, then he's lifting, and then he's moving. I don't stop my attack on his face, or neck because I simply can't get enough. We somehow make it to the bed, tumbling back in a slow frenzy of kisses and feeling. It begins to pick up pace as our bodies connect fully, the medium of water no longer between us. We're out of the Jacuzzi, but my body is still on fire. I swear I can still see the steam rising above us.

Bit by bit we discard clothing, not wanting to delay any longer. The passing time had been all the time we could wait for each other. We had forgotten about this unbridled connection between us, and now the renewal was more than overdue. Our hands entwine as Edward joins us, bringing us together in the way that husband and wife are supposed to be. No fighting, no biting words, or slanderous things thrown without caution. In this moment I can barely breathe. It's more than just a warm, fuzzy feeling; it's chilling love. It's the kind of love that there is so much going on that you just don't know what to do with. Edward and I move together in a way that's so unrehearsed that it's raw; giving and taking, taking, taking. I realize that when it comes to love we're just as blind, just as passionate, and just as lethal as the other. He's the tornado, and I'm the volcano. And I realize that I really wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

><p>I get such different reactions to this story...its a bit scary,<p>

however i do want you to still review so if you like it/love it/hate it/kind of wondering wtf -it/ the please review!

::ChristieHart::


	6. Earrings, Efforts, and Emotions

******Hello readers! I know its been a while but (of course i have to have an excuse) i've been gone for the past two weeks on school trips so i've been unable to update *shyface*. i hope you're still there. and for those who've been reviewing, your appreciation keeps my fingers moving. even if you're just popping in to read -thank you!**

**I hope yall enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 6: Earrings, Efforts, and Emotions**

**WEEK FIVE**

**-o- **_**Friday 10:30 pm **_**-o-**

"You are an arrogant asshole!"

I laugh at Jake's outburst as I tally the winning point for our team. Tanya and I share a high five before heading to the kitchen for refreshments, chuckling about the game of Taboo. Edward and Jake had been so sure they were going to annihilate us, but it turns out that both men suck horribly at the game. Then again, why would you play Taboo against two English majors?

"They have the whole freaking thesaurus memorized," Edward shrugs as he comes up behind me, and places his chin on my shoulder, "Good job baby."

I roll my eyes, and make gagging sounds as I place the dishes in the washer. With a chortle he wanders back over to where Jake is nursing his wounds. Edward has way too large of an ego to be insulted my lack of affection. Hand holding, and frequent hugs was something we practiced, but we refrained from anything too intimate. Edward just uses PDA to rile me up, and normally succeeds. A few minutes later I hear the click of the remote as the men tune into the sports headlines. Like always, the women are stuck in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess of the slobs. However it finally gives me a chance to talk with Tanya in the privacy of our homes. Sure we spend every lunch and break together, but the walls have ears in that office, ones that are waiting for juicy gossip. That's why when Tanya invited Edward and me over for dinner I was more than happy to accept. It had been a while since we had one of our mini gatherings, something that I missed more than I thought I did.

When Edward and I started fighting, Tanya and Jake were forced to pick sides. Granted they were never hostile towards the opposing party, but they were loyal to their respective friends. I still feel guilty that Tanya supported me throughout this so much. Edward knows that she loves him, but she was trying to be my best-friend at the same time. She was still there for him, but it wasn't as if he had the unwavering support of his sister. My friendship with Jake had also waned. He became cautious around me, not wanting to say anything that might cause tension between Edward and me.

"So," Tanya trails suggestively, "How was it?"

"How was what," I ask.

"The makeup sex," she winks, "Mind blowing?"

I can feel my face turn ten shades darker, "Yes."

Tanya squeals, clapping her hands rapidly in exaltation, "Yes!"

"Did you just fist pump?"

"I knew it," her sudsy hands wrap around me, "I'm so happy for you."

"Tanya," I roll my eyes, "Sex doesn't mean that everything is fine."

"I know," she says a little deflated, "But it sure counts for something right? How's the fighting been?"

"Nothing major," I shrug, "It's only over things like what channel the TV goes on, or what we're ordering in."

"That's good?" she comments, partially confused.

"Trust me, that's good," I laugh, "And he's calling me Bella now."

"Vast improvement," she agrees.

"He slips up sometimes," I say, "but I understand. He's been calling me Isabella for a while."

"That's so stupid," she rolls her eyes, "I'm so happy that there's no nickname for Tanya."

"Well there's none that doesn't sound idiotic," I add, "Tan…or Ya…or Anya…ooh, maybe Tawny."

Tanya glares at me, "Just Tanya."

We scrub at the glassware until we grow tired, "I say the men do this the next time," Tanya grumbles.

"Amen," I raise a hand in agreement. "Hey, Tawny, I have something serious to ask you, but you can't talk to Edward about it."

"When do I ever tell Edward our stuff," she questions, already knowing the answer, "and you're not going to get anything out of me if you use that stupid nickname."

"Fine," I digress, "…It's about Edward's piano back home."

Her eyebrow raises, "Yah, what about it?"

"Does Esme use it," I ask, "I mean, is there any reason why she'd miss it?"

"No," Tanya shakes her head quickly, "Its Edward's in every sense. Why, you want to move it here?"

"Do you think that's a horrible idea," I check.

"That's a genius idea," she smiles warmly, "He'll be so happy. He'd never admit it, but I know he misses that thing like his child-,"

A fragile silence suspends in the air, only interrupted by the small intake of my break.

Both of us freeze at what she's said, neither of us really sure how to act. My body and mind are at conflict, causing a mix of emotions to harden in my throat. Logically, I know that she meant no harm, and everyone makes little mistakes like those. However this thought doesn't prevent the stinging treat of tears.

"Bella," Tanya slaps a hand to her head, "I apologize. That was such a distasteful joke, and-,"

"No, I'm fine," I scrub the tears off my face with the dish towel. I catch the next set before they can fall. "I'm telling you, this talking with Jasper is making me soft and shit."

"Don't do that," she argues, "Don't push it off like you're not meant to feel anything. I made a poor joke; it's alright if you get upset."

"I'm not upset with you," I shake my head, "I'm upset that I'm upset. I just, I mean, I feel a lot better now as opposed to last year or when it happened. It just still hurts you know? And I hate the fact that it hurts."

Tanya pulls me in her arms, allowing me to take solace there for a few moments. I appreciate the comfort, and accept the hug, loving how she always knows what to do when I'm hurting. I wipe at my eyes, and prepare to pull away, right before I spot something in the trash. Tanya releases, catching my gaze before racing to slam the cabinet doors shut. Her actions confirm my thoughts.

"What were the results," I say finally catching her gaze even after she keeps avoiding it.

"It's okay, we can talk about it later," Tanya shakes her head.

"It's positive," I guess, "When were you going to tell me?"

"Tonight," she says, "but then, I made that stupid comment, and I didn't want to -I don't want to hurt you."

"So what, you were just going to wait to pop out the baby," I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice, "Yah, I'm a fricking minefield sometimes, but didn't you think I'd be happy for you? What, you think I'd be jealous of your baby?"

"You know that's not what I think," Tanya rolls her eyes, trying for nonchalance. The façade is destroyed as her eyes began to water and overflow; "I was just trying to be considerate of your feelings. You might deny them from time to time, but I'm not going to pretend like you didn't lose a child, Bella. You've gone through a lot."

"I know," I swallow quickly, "but you have to know that I'm happy for you. I'm ecstatic."

"You're practically sobbing," she laughs through her tears before pulling me back into her arms, "I know you're happy for me, and that you'll love my child as if it's your own."

"I love it already," my chuckles come out choked as I lean down and press a light kiss to her flat stomach, "You're a very lucky little one to have such a wonderful mother."

I return to Tanya's height, and try to get a hold on my emotions. I want these to be happy tears, not 'happy but I'm crumbling inside.' I take in her appearance; her face is glowing, the redness of her eyes being no match for the whiteness of her smile. She is probably more than a month along now, and in no time she'll be ballooning up. I see how happy she is, and remember how happy I'd been, and how happy I'm supposed to be for her, and just lose it.

"Bella," she tries to take me in again, but I pull away this time, "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," I cough on my short breaths, "I'm going to go to your bathroom."

"Go ahead sweetie," she ushers me.

I try to walk calmly to her room, but as soon as my feet reach outside of the kitchen I find myself breaking into a jog through the house. It's a miracle that I make it to bathroom without impairing myself. My breathing is jagged as I sit myself down on the toilet, and fumble through my purse for my container. When the action proves too hard for me to do, I give up. Kicking my feet against the sink in front of me, I throw a miniature temper tantrum just trying to expel all the energy that seems to be suffocating me. The jittery anxiety is overwhelming, and without the pills calming down is virtually impossible. I jump when the bathroom doorknob rattles, and Edward lets himself in. Then again, I'd probably jump at anything right about now.

I assume he's going to make some witty remark about how my face resembles an asphyxiated raccoon, but Edward's silent as he stoops down beside me and gently guides my head towards my knees. Of course I give slight resistance at first, but I comply because what else am I really going to do? The hand at the back of my neck strokes the goose bumps away, while lips catch my tears.

"We'll have our chance again someday," he whispers.

I nod while I reach a shaky hand up to wrap in the small hairs at the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. I pull his lips to mine, placing a gentle kiss on them. Our eyes remain closed as our lips remain touching, barely brushing against each other.

"Come on," Edward murmurs against my mouth, "Let's go home."

**WEEK SIX**

**-o- **_**Monday 12:31 pm **_**-o-**

"I just want to say how proud I am of you two," Dr. Whitlock starts, "Are you seeing the huge improvement?"

He motions to where Edward and I sit. We aren't holding hands or anything, but my chair is set so close to his that the arm rests are touching, and our knees are rendezvousing. Sometimes Edward's elbow extends, and knocks mine playfully. I return the favor by kicking him in the back of the calf with my heel.

"Edward? Bella?"

"Oh yah," Edward zones back in, "We're great. How's about this be our last session?"

"Not so quick," Jasper chuckles, "We still have the future to focus on, and we're not quite done with the present. So right now, I want you guys to tell me about your success. What do you think has changed?"

"We listen to each other much more," I answer.

"Instead of letting things build up we tell each other what's on our minds," Edward says, "Granted it gets loud sometimes, but we're trying."

"Well it's only been six weeks," Jasper reminds us, "Keep in mind that this therapy has nothing to do with _fixing _your marriage or even coming close reconciling ninety percent of the issues you have. That will be done in the follow up months after this eight week course. This counseling is solely to show you that you are able to save your marriage, and that it is a commitment worth putting the effort into. Do you see the potential this marriage has?"

"Yes, I think, more so than before," I reply, "I never really thought we could get to this point."

"If a month ago someone had asked me whether we'd be sitting so close to each other I'd probably laugh in their face," Edward admits, "I have to confess that I thought this was a load of malarkey."

"And now he's practically excited to come to every session," I roll my eyes, "Don't let the casual manner fool you."

"Bella practically speeds to get here," Edward retorts.

"Stop, I'm blushing," Jasper waves a hand, "That's all I really needed from you two today. I'm going to ask you to continue what you're doing, though this week I would like to have individual sessions."

"…Isn't this couples counseling," Edward raises a brow.

"Yah," I agree, "I'm sorry Jasper, but I don't want you hitting on my husband."

The doctor _actually _blushes this time, "I-I have a wife-,"

"Relax, doc," Edward laughs, "She does that to everyone."

"Well," he attempts to straighten his tie, clearing his throat, "um, we'll start with Bella tomorrow, and then alternate for this week."

"Eh, actually doc," I stop him, "Something really big is happening at work tomorrow, and I won't be able to make it, is there any way you can start with Edward?"

I ignore Edward's questioning glance as Dr. Whitlock nods, "It's no problem. Have a great evening you two."

**-o- **_**Tuesday 12:00 pm **_**-o-**

I jump as my cell phone buzzes, and dread answering it as I look at the caller ID. To say that this day has been horribly inconvenient is an understatement. Not only are the delivery men fifteen minutes late, but I've had to lie to Edward on more than five different occasions. Needless to say, I'm not a happy camper.

"Hey," I say as brightly as I can muster. I feel jittery from nerves, but know that there's no possible way Edward could know I'm home.

"Hey," he replies sort of distractedly.

"You know, Edward, you were the one to call me," I remind him, slightly annoyed.

"Yah, sorry," he stops the movement, "I'm here trying to do some menial paper work, and I just dropped a bunch of files."

"Well, not every doctor can be elbow deep in guts the entire day," I joke, "Is it a busy day today?"

"Actually it's pretty slow," he tells me, "I guess everyone in Seattle felt like being careful today. I was calling to tell you that I'll probably be home earlier than normal, so we can have an evening dinner."

"Sounds great," I mentally kick myself, "How early? I, uh, just want to know so I have time to prepare dinner."

"Probably around seven," he answers.

I sigh, "Great, so we have some time before I have to head back to the office."

"Speaking of which," Edward starts, "I just called yours, and Marie picked up. She said you'd gone home. I thought you had that massive conference with your reporting staff?"

His voice isn't accusing, just curious. I'm thankful for this because I don't think with the annoyance I'm holding for the delivery men that I could answer Edward without attitude.

"Yah," I say as coolly as I can, "I forgot something at home so I rushed over here."

"Oh okay," he says, "Well I hope it goes well."

"Thanks honey," I smile like an idiot on my side of the phone. I was _almost _in the clear until the doorbell rang.

"Was that the doorbell," _there's _the suspicion.

"Uh, yah," I rush, "Its Mrs. Frankenelli from next door with her milk jug. I'd better hurry up so I can reach work in time. I'll see you for dinner, bye."

Milk jug?

I give the delivery men the stink eye as they enter the house. For the two hours I sit by, and supervise as the men shift around my furniture and move the massive instrument into the room. Every time one of the men looked to be struggling I would slip to the edge of my seat, holding myself back before I could run up, and help them. I kept stressing how priceless this antique is, and that I would have no other choice but to kill them if anything happened to it.

I had spent all of last week calling movers and specialists who could make this happen. After the initial shock of my call, Esme was ecstatic to hear from me. By the end of the conversation we had successfully taken care of the costs and other planning for the restoration and moving of the piano. I spent many lunches making calls to different piano restoration businesses, trying to figure out which would be the best choice. I finally found a small business nearby who was practically drooling to get their hands on the prize. This 1918 Steinway antique has been passed down in the Masen family for decades. Since Esme has no musical talent whatsoever (much like Tanya) she saved the antique for her little prodigy. From the moment his stubby little fingers touched the keys, Edward fell in love. I can remember the many dates we had where he would play for hours and I would just lay with my head in his lap and my feet propped on a chair.

When the men finally make it out (alive) the tuner comes to make any extra adjustments to the strings since the move has probably distorted the sound. It is only after he leaves that I take in the finished product. The grand piano sits to the far left of the entrance, basking in the light of the sun. The rays catch on the gold embellishments of the hinges, and glimmers as it touches the polished deep wood. I lightly run my fingers along the strings, careful not to tarnish the work that had just been done. Next I feel the keys that I had told the restorer not to tamper with. The keys hold the history of the players, and if they aren't broken then I don't see why they need to be replaced in any way. He complained that the polish is horribly worn, but I don't care -that is the beauty of it. Lastly, I stoop down to inspect the hardly noticeable inscription on the side of the piano that lists past owners of this masterpiece. It only stretches around the beginning of the body of the piano, leaving space for any future users. Deep down I know that I'm hoping one of my children's names will succeed the four that are already there.

**-o- **_**Tuesday 7:14 pm **_**-o- **

The second I hear the gravel crunch under the tires of Edward's car I shoot up from my sitting place, shut off the lights, and wait outside at the front door. I can barely contain myself as I bounce in my spot, both excited and anxious at his reaction. What if he doesn't like it? What if he doesn't like the fact that they messed with it?

It's been a short day, but I can hear the drag of his feet as he makes his way up the driveway. He doesn't notice me standing in the dark doorway until we're practically face to face.

"Shit," he curses, dropping his keys, "What are -did something happen?"

"No, no, I have a surprise," I clap my hands excitedly.

"Bella," he sighs, "I really appreciate it, I do, but I just came out of a surgery that went horribly. I don't think I'm up for it right now."

"No not sex," I hit him, "Something much better. Close your eyes, and _no _peeking."

He rolls his eyes before shutting them tightly.

"I'm serious Edward," I warn, "If you peek it will ruin it."

I lead him by the hand past the threshold, and flick on the light that shines directly on the piano. I mutter an apology as he stumbles slightly, but don't feel too bad because that's nothing compared to what's about to happen.

"Alright," I practically squeal, "Open your eyes."

Slowly he opens each eyelid as if he's expecting a crowd of people to ambush him at any moment. At first he looks confused before what is in front of him begins to register. The things he's holding topple out of his arms, while his mouth forms this shocked 'o'. With shaking hands he rubs his face, completely speechless.

"I'm sorry," I ramble nervously, "I shouldn't have done this without asking you, but I mean I asked Tanya, and I asked your mom, and I made sure they took really good care of it -you hate it don't you? I completely ruined-,"

"It's perfect," his barely audible murmur stops me.

"Really," I feel my eyes water with relief, "Well it's yours Edward. Now are you going to touch it or just eye-hump it all night?"

In seconds I swept off my feet both literally and figuratively. Edward's hug is bone crushing as he whirls me in a small circle. When he sets me down it doesn't take even a millisecond for his lips to press feverish little kisses all over my face, ears, neck (I'm not complaining)…anywhere they can touch. Then, finally, he puts them on the place I want them the most in a way that's so soft, so gentle, so _adoring _that I'm sure I'm going to melt into a helpless puddle of Bella.

"I love you," he says with such conviction that I can feel myself shudder, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I capture his lips with my own, unable to hold my smile, "Now play for me."

**-o- **_**Thursday 11:34 am **_**-o-**

I receive more than twenty stares from the people in the lobby of the hospital as I enter. I suppose I can't blame them seeing as I'm loping like fricking Bambi through the halls. I try to calm down, and remind myself that this is a place where people could be mourning, and that kind of shit is just disrespectful. Red faced and short breathed I reach Edward's floor. I'm happy to see that Nessie is there instead of Lauren because I can't promise that I'd restrain from killing her if I saw her.

I've been known to punch a bitch.

The teenager's eyebrows reach to her purple highlighted fringe when she sees me, "Whoa."

"I know Nessie," I roll my eyes as I lean over her desk, "How've you been?"

"Eh, fine," she shrugs, "I haven't seen you in _ages._"

"Yah, let's not talk about that," I cut her off, "Is Edward in surgery?"

"Nah, McSexy is currently in his office trying to finish his weight in paperwork," she tells me,

"You know Nessie, one of these days Edward's going to have an aneurysm from all of your nicknames," I joke.

"Yah, yah, he tells me that every morning," she rolls her eyes, "Want me to tell him you're here?"

"Nope, I'm surprising him," I tinker excitedly.

"Do you even remember where his office is?" Nessie teases cruelly.

"And to think I was going to give you this gum," I cluck as I walk away.

"No," she practically jumps over the desk, arm extended for her guilty pleasure.

I hold the Hubba-Bubba just out of her grasp, "Make sure no one comes in?"

"Gross," she shudders before nodding, "Yah, whatever."

I shake my head at Nessie and toss her the packet before making my way down the hall. I hadn't been here in months, but I could still remember where Edward's office is. During his intern years we normally spent our time in more common rooms. Now that he's finished he has his own office, one that I've only been to a handful of times for short visits. Brown paper bag in hand, I give a short knock on the door before entering. I consider removing the plastic knife from the parcel once I catch sight of the woman standing at the other side of Edward's desk.

"Get out," I tell Lauren, "Get out before security has to come and get _me_ out."

"What are you even doing here," she snaps in her nasally voice.

"Okay fine don't," I say as I begin to remove my earrings, "I've always wanted to slap the bitch out of you-,"

"Lauren," Edward finally regains use of his voice, "Please, leave _now." _

She casts him a glare before picking up her purse off of the chair. As she passes she attempts to stare me down, failing miserably when I challenge her with slanted eyes. The second her gaze wavers I know that I've won. The door slams as she leaves.

"Did you just growl at her," Edward asks.

"What was she doing in here," I cut to the chase, not in the mood for pleasantries.

…Even if I did in fact growl at her.

"Look, Bella, it's not what you think," he sighs, "She just wanted to talk."

"With that skirt on, trust me Edward, she was not planning on talking," I scoff, "I could see her fallopian tubes from here."

He laughs, the sound containing a weird mix of nervousness, "Are you jealous?"

"Don't even pull that shit with me," I give him a warning stare, "That's the woman you cheated with -this goes way past jealousy."

"Nothing was going to happen, nor did anything happen," he raises his hands in defense, "I told her that I didn't think it was appropriate for us associate with one another anymore. I told you, it didn't even last a month. We've been over for a while now. Hell, we never even started. I regret every second of it."

I slump into the seat across from him, and put my face into my hands trying to believe what he's saying. _He said he loves you…that should be enough. _

"Hey," he says softly, "Why are you sitting so far away, like you're a patient? Come over here." After a bit more insistence I finally get up, and plop onto his lap quite ungracefully. He wraps his arms around me, and pulls his fingers through the loose strands of my hair.

"I brought you lunch," I mutter, "But I think I might have crushed it."

"That's okay." He chuckles, "What was it?"

"A Fluffernutter sandwich, and a box of Nesquik," I tell him.

"That's um…awful healthy," he says, "You know I can't perform heart surgery on myself right?"

I hit his chest playfully, "I wanted to do something nice. The lunch here is crap, I would know."

He tries to hide the change in his face, but I notice it anyways, "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"No," he shakes his head, "It's fine. You know that was a hard time for me though."

"It's behind us now," I sneak a kiss before moving to get up, "I have to get back to the office though for a few minutes, and then I'll head home."

"Thanks for the lunch," he smiles, "It was a nice surprise."

"Trust me Edward," I snicker as I head towards the door, "I'm pretty sure Lauren got most of the surprise."

I walk back to the car, slightly satisfied with what transpired. The surprise had worked, but the effect had been ruined by 'the woman whose name will not be mentioned.' However, I can't stop the nagging feeling that makes me doubt the both of them. Although the affair was short lived I can't help but have trust issues. I mean he cheated on me with a woman he encounters daily. These feelings are expected. But I refuse to let these feelings taint what Edward and I have already worked so hard to restore. So if Lauren thinks she's going to ruin us and walk away again unscathed then she's so wrong.

Bella Masen doesn't play nice.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Really wondering wtf these two are doing?<br>Tell me ;)  
>~christiehart<p> 


	7. Cursing, Climbing, and Confrontations

****Hello there fellow readers! Thank you for being here so far and supporting! I tell you guys, i'm absolutely flattered from the things you're saying. So i'm actually updating relatively early given my track record so i don't have an excuse this time. I don't know if this is still up, but click on over to thelemonadestand (dot) blogspot (dot) com and see if you can vote for my fic ==go ahead. you know you want to. Alright enough chit-chatter; enjoy!

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes<strong>

**Chapter 7: Cursing, Climbing, and Confrontations**

**WEEK SIX**

**-o- **_**Sunday 3:05am **_**-o-**

Back and forth Tanya's hand slides across my back as she tries to calm me. My body shudders as another heave comes, forcing me to empty my stomach into the porcelain bowl. I never thought I'd be reacquainted with the toilet so soon after my food poisoning, but I was horribly wrong.

Then again, I never thought that I'd leave Edward.

"Sh," she soothes, "Let it all out.

I'm a mess, trying to figure out if the next thing that will come out of my mouth is a sob, or puke, or a long string of profanities. Leaning my head back against her shoulder I attempt to stop the world from spinning. Instead it just whirls and turns and neglects me of proper equilibrium.

"Bella," Tanya brushes back my hair, "What happened?"

I shake my head, hoping that the action will convey that I don't want to talk about it. A part of me hopes the action will simply shake the night away. Maybe if I shake like the world around me I can feel in sync again. The action proves to be fruitless, and just like a snow globe, everything returns and settles after the disturbance.

"Honey, you're hysteric," she points out, "I'm dying here. Please just tell me."

"I-I just, I'm so," I stutter lamely.

She tries again, "Where's Edward?"

My stomach muscles contract at the sound of his name, and again I'm sick, emptying my body of him. "Fuck," is all I can mutter afterwards.

"Sh," she wipes at my mouth, "It's okay, calm down."

"Just make it stop, Tanya," I cry.

"I want to," Tanya says, "but you have to tell me what happened."

And so I do tell her. I tell her how Edward ruined our marriage.

**-o- **_**The Previous Day: Saturday 10:05pm **_**-o-**

"You've been acting weird the whole day," I finally say.

Edward sits across from me, inspecting his food like it's the most interesting specimen he's ever discovered. I'd be offended if it wasn't for the fact that I've cooked lasagna way too many times for him to find anything new with it. He doesn't even acknowledge me after I say this and I have to wonder if he's listening. This has been Edward the entire day; distant, out of tune, and uncharacteristically pensive. I mean Edward thinks, but he doesn't think _that _much. I want to point this out, but I don't suppose it would be the most beneficial thing to say at the moment. Instead, I place down my fork and knife quite forcefully to catch his attention.

His head snaps up, "I'm sorry, what?"

"What is wrong with you," I ask, "Did you lose a patient?"

"No, no," he shakes his head, "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Oh," I nod, "You can talk to me, if you want?"

"It's okay," Edward attempts to give me a smile, "I'll probably call it a night soon."

"That's understandable," I agree, "but, um, I was thinking that maybe…you'd like to come sleep with me tonight?"

His face brightens considerably, "Yah, I'd love that-,"

A vibration from his phone catches his attention. He seems to hesitate before sending back a text. Distress crosses his face for a brief moment, and then is replaced with a stony expression.

"Did something happen at the hospital," I guess.

"What?" he murmurs distractedly.

"You look upset," I continue, "Did something happen at the hospital?"

"Uh, yah," he pushes back his chair abruptly, and runs a hand through his hair, "I have to run over there for about an hour.

"This late," I complain, "Do you want me to drive you?"

"No," he answers a bit sharply, "You don't have to do that. I'll be back soon, I promise."

He grabs his keys, and rushes out the door, only grabbing his coat before disappearing. I'm disappointed, but I accept it because he has a demanding job. At least he's saving lives. With that I begin to clear the dinner table, wrapping Edward's food so he can finish it later. I smile to myself when I think about sleeping in the same bed as him, just the way it used to be. I hadn't planned on giving the invitation, but with the look on Edward's face, and the way he's been acting I don't want him to be alone tonight. I don't really want him to be driving at this hour either, but duty is duty and he has to get there somehow.

Fifteen minutes later after clearing the table I sit down with a cup of tea, having promised Edward to cut down on my alcohol and caffeine intake. Of course as soon as my ass makes contact with the plush sofa the phone rings. Except that it isn't mine, or the house phone, it's Edwards. I roll my eyes before heading over to the dining table where the cell is lying abandoned on the chair. I pick it up with the intention of setting it down in our room where he can find it, but my eyes catch the name on the screen.

_Lauren: Where are you? _

Trying not to jump to conclusions I ration that there must be a good reason why she is contacting him. I ignore the fact that he still has her number saved in his phone, and proceed to click into the messages. I've never been one to support snooping, but what the hell would any other normal woman do in this situation? If the ex-mistress of your husband is texting said husband asking 'where are you' you'd be a damn fool _not _to click into the messages. But as I read what's on the screen I realize that I'm already a damn fool.

_Lauren: Are you coming over? 1432 Thomas Street #7_

_**Edward: …I'm on my way**_

The phone is pitched out of my hand faster than it takes for me to release a feral scream. A blind rage engulfs me as dash his plate of food off the table in a single swoop. Any object that dares to come into my path is demolished, and any unfortunate item that makes its way in my hands is destroyed. Pictures, lamps, chairs…there is so much anger that I don't know what to do with it. It's is when I'm about to strike the Steinway that it all leaves me in one large breath. I can feel my heart speed out of control while my blood creates a weird flooding sensation in my head. I sink into the floor, wine bottle in hand as I survey the mess I just created. Shards of glass, dirt from plants, bits of food, cotton;

What the fuck Bella?

Wine washes down my tears, nursing my pain beautifully. I drink until it begins to numb, but stop soon because I'd rather not kill myself from mixing drugs and alcohol. Edward doesn't deserve to be the cause of my death. I glance down at the folder in front of me, and laugh at the cruel fate of it all. Had I taken this out, or is God trying to tell me something? Nevertheless, it benefits me because it means I don't have to go in search of it. It's almost too easy for me to scribble my name at the end of the document.

I don't pay attention to the door as it opens nor do I acknowledge Edward and his profanities as he enters. Instead I stare blankly at the tile in front of me, wondering if a few more sips of this bottle would be _that_ detrimental to my health.

"Bella," he calls before spotting me on the step, "What the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"Stop it okay? Just stop it," I slur at him, "Stop pretending you care about me."

"What are you even talking about," he begins to step forward, but stops as his foot hits a cracked picture frame on the ground; inside a picture of us on our wedding day, foreheads pressed together. I almost laugh at the irony. Down the center of the frame, splitting the two of us is a thick, ugly, and jagged crack. He picks it up and inspects it, his face contorting into a pained expression, "You did this?"

"You left your phone here," I tell him, nodding towards the mess of wires and plastic on the ground. I might have stepped on it once or twice…or five times.

His face drains of color, "It's not-,"

"If you say it's not what I think it is I'm going to shove this wine bottle so far up your ass that even Lauren won't be able to reach it," I threaten, "I trusted you Edward, and you went back to whore around with her."

"I didn't do anything," his voice begins to rise; "I just went there to talk."

"If you went there to talk then why did you hide it from me," I shout. Why wait for the crescendo when I know forte is already coming, "Why would you lie?"

"Because…" Edward fails to finish the sentence.

I get up not wanting to hear anymore. I refuse to sit around and have lies fed to me like I'm some gullible dunce. He'd fooled me twice into thinking he loves me, and now I'm not going to let him take advantage of me again.

"Where're you going," he yells.

"I'm leaving you," I say simply.

"No you're not, come back," His fingers grip my forearm before I can reach the doorknob, pulling me so that I'm forced to stay rooted.

I yank my arm away, surprised by how easily it is removed. _I guess I don't know my own strength. _ "No Edward. This is just some stupid cycle that we keep going through. When it's good it's great, but then the storm comes, and you want out. And I tried Edward, I tried to so hard to save us, but y-you just screwed it up. You're only in this for you. What does_ Edward _want, what will make _Edward _happy?"

"You know that's not true," his voice shakes as he objects.

"Do I Edward? Because lately I'm thinking my judgment has been a bit clouded," I say, "Being with you is like huffing paint –seems good at first, but all the while I'm suffering and I don't even know it."

"I thought we put this behind us," Edward argues, "I thought we said this was the past."

"You told me this was the past," I correct, "You _tricked_ me into thinking she was in your past."

"She is in my past," he insists.

"Really," I scoff, "Tell me then, in all our time of therapy have you been with her?"

His silence says it all.

"Goodbye Edward," I mutter, marching towards the door.

"No," he snaps as he blocks the portal with his body. The sound of the lock clicking rings through my ears, "I love you, Bella. I won't just stand by and watch you leave through the door."

I push the manila envelope into his hand before heading to a different destination. "Fine," I say as I pry the wooden frame up from the window pane, allowing the cool breeze to slip through the new opening, "Then you'll just have to watch me leave through the window."

**-o- **_**Tanya's House: Sunday 3:17am **_**-o-**

"So you left the house," she nods, "Where did you go afterwards? You only showed up here half an hour ago. And what the hell happened to your hand?"

"I'm getting there," I mutter.

**-o- **_**Later that morning: 2:03am **_**-o-**

Three hours have passed since I left the house. Whether it is my house or his house I've yet to decide, but it definitely isn't our house anymore. The alcohol has exited my system, residing in the bush that isn't too far away. I'd only managed to drive a few blocks away, not completely content with driving under the influence. What did it matter anyways? Edward wouldn't and couldn't come after me.

I have his keys.

I've run through everything countless times, trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time that this marriage fell apart. All I can come up with are the places where we had begun to crack, and wither. I want to think that this fight is the breaking point, but what had there been to break? Had we really reconciled anything, or was it a figment of my imagination? Or perhaps, I had reconciled things, and Edward had just been playing along. He just needed me as the trophy wife to be there when he wants, so that he could have Lauren as the desert afterwards. And to think I believed he regretted doing anything with her; to think that I trusted him that day in the office. When had I become such a fool?

When did I let girls like Lauren trample over me?

I return my chair from its reclining position, and start the car, my body acting on its own accord. Now sober I operate the car much more efficiently, speeding down the back roads until I reach the unfamiliar street. I slow down as I screen the numbers of each house. When I finally reach the small yellow house I don't hesitate to jump out of my car. The anger has returned, but this time with a silent vengeance.

Murderously, I jab the small glass doorbell positioned next to the metal _#7. _I watch as Lauren slugs down the stairs, clad in a black robe. The door flings open, revealing her haggard features. It's amazing what makeup can do. When she realizes who it is standing in front of her she rushes to shut the door back. My foot blocks the threshold.

"If you're woman enough to fuck with someone else's husband then be woman enough to own up to it," I growl.

"I don't have to talk to you," she says, trying to force the door shut.

Forgoing my logical thinking, I act on emotions alone, sending my knee into the door. The wooden slab meets Lauren's face in a quick collision, knocking her straight off her feet. She sits on the ground, her head cradled in her hands as her silent sobs turn into full grown bawling. I want to feel good about this; I want to feel some semblance of victory at seeing Lauren vulnerable on the ground, but all I can feel is this overwhelming confusion. One moment I'm a spectator by the door, and in the next I'm leaning down beside her, inspecting the forming bruise on her cheek.

I've done it.

I have officially slapped the bitch out of Lauren Mallory…

So why does it feel so wrong?

"I didn't mean to," Lauren sobs, "I'm so sorry."

Somehow I'm able to stumble back to my car, the weight of my actions making it almost impossible to move. My body tries to heave the regret, only managing to successfully expel more liquor from before. I catch my reflection in the shiny paint of my car, and the image just _sickens _me. I hate what I see…I hate what I've let myself become. And worst of all? I hate that I think I deserve Edward cheating on me because truthfully, I wouldn't want to be with me either.

My fist meets the hood of the car repeatedly, finally stopping as the pain becomes too much for me to continue. Tattered and distorted, my hand rests in my lap as I drive one handedly to the only place I know to go.

**-o- **_**Tanya's House: Sunday 3:25am**_ **-o-**

"Hey, how's our girl," Jake yawns as he reenters the room with an ice packet in hand. He situates himself on the bathroom floor before gently picking up my hand and inspecting it. I wince as he passes his finger over the swelling joints. "Wow Bells, you really had to punch a car?"

"I'm sorry, next time I'm pissed I'll aim for some drywall," I deadpan.

He chuckles as he turns my hand over, "It seems to be a Brawler's fracture of the fourth and fifth metacarpals. Notable damage to the index finger…"

"So she broke her fingers," Tanya rolls her eyes, "I could have told you that."

"You could've," Jake shrugs, "Still doesn't change the fact that she has to go to the hospital."

"Alright then," Tanya sighs before pressing a kiss to my head, "I'll go get my keys."

**-o- **_**Tuesday 11:52pm**_**-o-**

Pain shoots through my arm, causing me to shift my position once more. However the pain doesn't compare to dull one that seems to be radiating through my entire body. Throughout the day I play with flashbacks and flash forwards, taunting myself with what our past was and what our future could have been. I see Edward and I holding hands, or Edward and I locked in an embrace. The most painful image is of us sitting, a healthy baby being showered with our love, and adoration. These things will never happen for me. Not with Edward at least.

No matter how much resentment, how much dislike, or how much disappointment I hold for this man it doesn't cancel out the fact I'm still unhealthily in love with him. This is the man that I have literally spent half of my life's efforts on, having known him since the seventh grade. From that day on everything I did, and every thought I had was spent on _being _with Edward. I don't know who I am without him. And that scares me the most.

I slip out of the bed, no longer wanting to spend my time wallowing on the plush mattress. It's been a week since I left the house to go to anywhere besides work, and I had yet to retrieve my things. My phone has been plagued with messages from Edward to the point where I disabled my voicemail. I have nothing to say to him. Or rather, I have nothing nice to say to him.

Now in the kitchen I scrounge in the fridge for one of Jacob's cheap beers. I do a mini dance as I find the last one hidden in the back. My plans are successfully thwarted when I realize I can't open the bottle one handedly. With the loss of dexterity in my right hand I relied on my left to perform daily tasks. It doesn't help that I'm right handed.

"Are you trying to kill yourself," Tanya grabs the beer from where it's positioned between my legs.

"Dramatic much," I reach for the bottle.

"You're on meds," she reminds me.

A frown takes place on my face as I plop onto one of her bar stools, "Then what am I supposed to do Tanya?"

The question could simply be taken as one pertaining to my beverage situation, but we both know that's not why I'm asking. For the past week Tanya has been consoling me along with warding off Edward's advances. At first he would bombard the house with calls throughout the day, but soon enough the persistence wavered, and then stopped completely. Day by day the finality of our end begins to weigh on me, making it feel like a task just to breathe.

"What am I going to do," my question turns into a sob as Tanya gathers me in her arms, "I can't stop thinking about him and how we could be and how we were. And after all those thoughts I just get so upset. I mean, look at me Tanya. I'm a mess. And on top of that, I'm sounding like a fucking Nicholas Sparks character."

Tanya chuckles as she pulls up a seat beside me, "It's all understandable. No one's expecting you to be fine."

"But I failed at my marriage," I confess, "I quit on it."

"No you didn't," she soothes, "It just took a really shitty turn."

"But do you think I did the right thing," I ask, "Do you think a divorce is best?"

"I think that you need to talk to Edward," she advises.

"I can't," I shake my head, "It hurts too much."

"Give it time, Bella," Tanya wipes at my tears with her thumbs, "you'll only know in time."

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to crawl out a window to get away from it? Tell me! I'd love to hear,<p>

sincerely,

~CH


	8. Driving, Drama, and Doors

****hello wonderful readers! So I have to say, your reviews *wipes a tear* they're what're keeping me through the days ~let's just say that studying for exams is not pleasurable. I have to give props to SUNFLOWER3759, because if it wasn't for her, this chapter probably wouldn't be coming out on time. ****

I have to say, your thoughts on Edward and Bella are so interesting to read, and damn, yall really hate Lauren..

And last thing, i'm so flattered that yall think i'm older. but really guys, i'm 16.

Disclaimer: No i don not own these characters, i just screw with their lives a little bit more.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 8: Driving, Drama, and Doors**

**-o- **_**Wednesday 2:32pm **_**–o- **

I don't know why I thought this would be easier.

Stop.

My foot taps against the floor of the car as I wait for the traffic light to turn red. Just like everything in my life, I'm waiting. There's so much going around me, so many noises, so many colors, but it doesn't matter. I've only the energy to focus on the small world around me. I have to take this day by day, or minute by minute, or even second by second. But somehow, the pain just seems to get worse. I miss him.

Go.

The air swirls around me and fills the car. I no longer have to think about anything, but the road before me. Driving requires so much multitasking. You have to focus on staying in your lane, indicating a lane change, following road signs, monitoring your speed limit, being cautious of pedestrians, checking your mirrors, keeping the wheel steady, switching between the brake and gas pedal…If only I constantly had these distractions. Instead my day was filled with menial tasks meant to keep me sane. Wake up, brush my teeth, eat, read, write, work, rinse, repeat…

Stop.

I wonder what he's doing. I try to block the images of his sloped smile, and his moss eyes, and his defined jaw, but it's of no use. I can still hear his laughs and his shouts. I can still see his smile and his glare. I can still feel his brush and his grip. I miss him.

Go.

It's not much longer now. Four miles, two miles, one mile, and I'm here. I sit in the car and stare at the front of the house. It's the same as I left it; big, dull, and empty. When had this ever felt like a home? I gather my keys, and take a few breaths to calm myself. After exiting the vehicle, I approach the front door and hesitate.

Stop.

He shouldn't be home. I didn't see his car either. Hopefully that will make my journey that much easier. Except that a part of me wants him to be in there. A part of me wants to step in, and everything will be like it was not three weeks ago, but three years ago when he was Edward and I was Bella and none of this had ever happened. I want it to be like when he would kiss me, and every feeling he'd ever had for me was translated into that kiss. His lips would touch mine, and anything that happened before or after was irrelevant. He'd kiss me, and it wouldn't matter that this had never felt like home. He was my home. I miss him.

Go.

It's silent as I step inside. I glance around and realize that everything is the way I'd strewn it two weeks ago. Even the glass from the various items I'd broken remained. I step around the patches of shards, knowing that I don't need any more injuries. A part of me feels ashamed by how I acted, and the other part feels embarrassed. Not wanting to relive my moment of insanity any longer, I head to the bedroom to retrieve my clothing.

Stop.

He's lying on my bed. To say that I didn't expect him to be here is an understatement. Scrubs and all, he's curled up on my side of the bed where I would sleep, my pillow clenched in his fingers. His skin is pale, his lips are dry, and underneath his red rimmed eyes are the darkest bags. I want to think it serves him right, or that I couldn't care less if he slept, but I just can't. I can't do any of this. I can't do _anything._ I miss him.

Go.

Trying to be as quiet as I can, I empty my clothes and belongings into the suitcase. All the while I watch him sleep, not really caring which clothes end up being taken and which ones remain. He stirs a few times, but doesn't actually wake up. I wonder where his exhaustion is coming from, work or me?

"Bella," he murmurs.

Stop.

I freeze, the suitcase handle slipping from my hand. At this point I'm sure he's woken up, but his tired eyes still rest against his cheek. Is he dreaming of me? He doesn't deserve to dream of me, not after what he did; not after the vows he broke. Yet as I think this I can't help but want to come up with some way to defend him. _He might not have done anything with her…you don't know what happened…_And though these thoughts are true, I know that this separation is more than what transpired two weeks ago. This separation was the result of trust broken, and confidence lost. Had I ever truly gotten over Edward's affair? Suddenly I begin to question all the progress we'd made in therapy. After all, it'd only been about two months.

Then I looked at his face again and remember the way he smiled at me, and the way he spun me, and the way he said 'I love you,' and I know that some of it had to have been real. With everything that we'd shared, and everything we'd been through, I knew that he loved me. Yet somehow, right now, that wasn't enough.

But even with that fact I can't help the overwhelming sense of needing him. If we could just go back…If we could just rewind; I'd been the one to persevere before –why am I giving up now? Why am I giving him up now? I still want him, I still need him…but I can't.

When I leave, I do something I know I shouldn't. I lean down and press the lightest of kisses to his mouth while he lies unaware. He doesn't wake, he doesn't stir, all he does is sigh. Then I whisper the only words that have been clear in my mind for these past few days,

"I miss you."

-o-_**Monday 2:54am **_** –o- **

"Bella," Tanya clicks her fingers in front of my face, "Earth to le Bella."

"Get your fingers out of my face," I growl, not in the mood for any of her antics.

"You've been spaced out for the past few minutes," she rolls her eyes.

"No I haven't," I correct, "I've just been ignoring you."

"Ding ding, ding," Tanya sings, "Ladies and gentlemen we have a winner; the prize for the bitchiest mood goes to…"

"I don't need this right now," I snap before pushing away from my desk.

The office is alive with work activity as its employees race to get the delayed prints out. The air conditioning streams at fully blast while the lights from the flat screen flicker, only projecting images, as its setting has been turned to mute. Angela stretches before checking her watch, and Eric pops another stick of gum in his mouth to give himself something to do other than nothing. Meanwhile in her office Victoria types furiously at her computer as if she's actually doing work. I can see the reflection of Facebook on the window behind her. The elevator sounds obnoxiously down the hall, and someone's burnt toast finally goes off. It's like a sensory overload and yet I feel so empty.

It's been three months.

Sometimes he'll leave me messages saying how much he misses me. Sometimes Dr. Whitlock will call wanting to speak. Sometimes Tanya passes on messages, urging me to talk to him. Every time I ignore them.

There's this weird cycle of emotions that apparently many individuals go through after infidelity: anger, sadness, fear, and remorse. For the first few weeks I was stuck between the first two, and now I'm just stuck in limbo.

What even happened that night?

Tanya feels it imperative to remind me (every day) that I'll never know unless I talk to him. However the problem is just that; it requires me talking to him. I'm not sure if either of us would survive that.

When I walk back into my office, Tanya is sitting on the chair, behind my desk, with her heels perched on its corner. She removes her right earphone in acknowledgment before putting it back and returning to ignoring me.

In _my _office, I might add.

I pluck the small bud from her ear, "How long is the silent treatment going to last for?"

"Have you calmed down?" she raises a brow.

"Calm down from what," I roll my eyes before heading to the filing cabinet.

"Your bitchtastic mood," Tanya says, "I won't be able to handle it much longer."

"What is _that _supposed to mean," I stop in my tracks and face her.

"You know exactly what it means," she continues, "I could take you being upset the first two months, and I had no problem being there for you, but this? This last month of your 'fuck the world' attitude is not working for me."

"Tanya, I'm going through a _divorce,_" I gape, "Am I meant to be frolicking or something?"

"That's not an excuse for your behavior," Tanya shakes your head, "You're not a _victim _Bella. So don't act like one." And without another word she gets up and leaves.

Do you want to know what the worst part is? I know she's right.

**-o- **_**Wednesday 12:00pm –o- **_

I messed up.

I had only wanted to get the last of my things, and then I would be completely rid of this house. Everything had been going smoothly; I'd gotten through chores, ran some errands, and checked with Jake to ensure that the house was empty. Except that it isn't empty.

Where is his car anyways? You'd think he'd have a bit of common decency and give a girl some warning by parking the car out front, but no. Who even parks their car inside at 12pm? Why is he home?

I could have escaped unnoticed if it wasn't for my lack of coherent and logical thought. It's too late. By the time he resumes playing the piano I've already rattled the door. His attention is drawn to the window where I stand, _still_ unmoving, watching as he gets up and heads towards the door. Meanwhile, I'm still rooted.

Dear legs,

Assholes.

Sincerely,

Bella

It's only when he reaches the door that my appendages receive the signal and I flee. I can't remember a time I've ever run so quickly in my life. I've all but started flying by the time I reach my door. However I've run out of luck (as if I had any to begin with). His head obstructs the doorway and I'm forced to stop closing because I can't slam his head in the metal trap.

Without being sent to jail at least.

"Bella, stop," he pants as he grips both sides of the passage, "Stop and just _talk _to me."

A moment of silence ensues as I study his face. Besides the tiredness and the possible loss of weight, his features remain the same. He's still Edward. He's still beautiful. And out of all the words in the English language that I know to say to this beautiful man, I choose the one with the most eloquence.

"Fuck," I breathe.

An empty chuckle passes his lips, "Is that surrender?"

"I'm not coming inside," I mutter before breaking his stare, "and I will drive away whether you're in the way or not."

"Understandable," he nods.

"Well?" I grit.

"How've you been?" Edward asks.

"Really," I scoff, "Small talk?"

"And you're still unbelievable…" he sighs.

I rev the engine as a warning, causing him to jump in surprise.

"Okay, okay," he grips his hair, "shit, I don't know what to say okay? I honestly didn't think you'd stop, and I wasn't expecting this. I just didn't want you to leave. I've wanted to see you."

"Yah, well, you've seen me," I smile, "Bye."

"So this is it?" he asks, "we're just over? We don't get to talk?"

"You're not even talking," I point out, "and I don't think we have anything to talk about."

"You don't even know what happened, Bella," Edward says.

"Then please," I wave a hand in permission, "enlighten me."

"Lauren texted me saying she wanted to talk," Edward began quickly, "I didn't tell you because I thought you'd be angry. I didn't even go inside her house Bella, I only went because she was threatening to hurt herself and I couldn't live with myself if she actually did. She was only telling me that she was leaving. She wanted to apologize."

"Ah, so I'm supposed to hear this and forgive you," I nod, "because poor Edward was only the victim in this."

"No, gah, that's not what I meant for it to sound like," he pulls at his hair again, "I just want you to know the full story."

"Okay, then, bye," I begin to shut the door once more.

He braces his hands between the opening once again, but it's his next words that prevents it from closing,

"What can I do?" his voice breaks, "I'll do anything."

I want to look away, but the instability of his voice forces me to meet his gaze. I should've known that would be my downfall.

My eyes water as I shake my head, "It's too late."

"It's not too late," he insists, his eyes watering as well, "Just answer one question for me."

"No," I refuse, knowing what it will be.

"You still love me," he presses.

"No I don't," I bark in response.

"At least look at me when you're lying to me," his hand grips my chin and forces me to look at him, "Now say it again; say that you don't love me."

My tears flow freely now, and all I can do is just stare at him. How could I, being such a strong woman, act so weakly now? Where is my tough 'Bella Masen' exterior, the one that I used to smote my husband and avenge his mistress with? Where is the crass mouthed and hard skinned woman I'd built over the past twenty-nine years of my life?

She's currently being held in the palm of this man's hand.

And then I don't know what supernatural force possesses him to do this, or makes him think this is even a remotely a good idea but he leans in and presses his forehead to mine. Shortly afterwards his nose follows, and all too soon, but not soon enough, his lips descend as well. And what do I do? I kiss him back.

Our lips meet repeatedly, slow at first and then quickly. I entwine my fingers in his hair and against my better judgment (and common sense) pull him closer. The result of my actions make the fingers of his right hand begin to twist and wind in my hair as well, while his thumbs caress the side of my neck. All the while tears still flow, and I grumble 'I hate you' repeatedly. His solution to this is to engulf more of my mouth and force me to shut up. It proves to be an effective solution.

Gradually we recline, until my back is resting against the gear shift and the other half of our bodies are dangling outside the car. We do nothing but kiss frantically for the next few minutes, trying to get our fill of each other. I can accept this. I can accept this furious and angry kissing. What I can't accept is when it turns tender. When the kisses slow and he starts whispering 'I love you', I have to stop. It's all too much.

"I love you," he repeats, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know," I swallow.

"I can't lose you," Edward says, "not both of you."

"I don't know what to do," I shake my head, "I can't trust you...you can't trust me. We'll never be the same."

"Then let's start over," he insists, gathering up my hands, "I'll do anything, Bella."

"No, you fucked it up this time," I rip my hands back, "You don't deserve a second chance –a _third _chance."

"You're right, I don't deserve one," he agrees, "But I'm asking you. I am _begging _you. Let's start all over; not as Mr. and Mrs. Masen, but as Bella and Edward. You don't have to decide now, just at least consider it."

"So you're going to date me all over again," I raise a brow.

"Kind of, yes," he rubs the back of his neck, "Something like that."

"It will take a while for me to even stand you, _if _I even can," I mutter.

"I'll wait for you," Edward promises before pressing one last kiss to my mouth, and shutting the door.

Normally the shutting of a door signifies the finality or end of a time in someone's life. However this time, I can't help but think that as Edward shut my door, that this is only the beginning.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to slam someones head in the car door after reading it?<br>Tell me! I'd love to hear :)

Thanks for reading,

~CH


	9. Seating, Strangers, and Small Beginnings

I know, I know, you guys are probably looking at that little calendar on your computer and going '...it's not Tuesday. WHERE WERE YOU?' I was being held hostage by ap biology. it finally decided to give me a break to get this posted. That, and I have an awesome person helping me out (SUNFLOWER 3759)!

Alright so there were some questions about Edward's line "I can't lose the both of you." I want to assure you it was noooooot about Bella and Lauren. It was Bella and Addie. I'm not thaat bad.

Lastly, there were some concerns about my age. It would sadden me if that caused you not to read my story, however if you're uncomfortable with it than i suppose there's nothing i can do. (If I could change my age psshh i'd have my license.) So I hope it doesn't deter you, -I try to write as maturely as I can especially where older characters are concerned, however yes, I am young. Inevitably, my teenageness seeps through.

With that all cleared up, I just want you guys to enjoy! I love your reviews -the good and the bad. It's just a pleasure for me to share!

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 9: Seating, Strangers, and Small Beginnings**

**-o- **_**Monday 4:36pm **_**–0-**

"I have to say, I wasn't expecting this visit," Jasper leans back in his chair, "but it's a pleasant surprise."

I give him a small smile before approaching his desk. The mahogany piece is broad and suddenly intimidating, whereas before it had been familiar and comforting. Once there, I'm faced with a decision that I otherwise wouldn't have given any thought. Now I cannot seem to decide.

Which seat do I sit in?

"Are you okay, Bella?" he asks.

"Uh, yah," I mumble before quickly sitting in Edward's normal seat. Feeling uncomfortable with the change, I switch back to my normal one.

"Is there a specific reason for this impromptu visit?" he presses.

"No," I shrug, "Just thought I'd stop by..."

"Right," he nods, "And this wouldn't have anything to do with the finalizing of your divorce papers last week?"

I snort, "No."

Jasper peers at me over the rim of his reading glasses, clearly not convinced. I try to avoid his gaze for a bit longer, but fail miserably. I sigh as I recline further in the seat, and admit my reason for seeking his guidance.

"Okay, so maybe it is," I sigh, "I just… aren't I supposed to be happy? Isn't this what I wanted?"

"_Isn't_ this what you wanted?" Jasper reiterates.

"This is what I wanted," I agree, "I mean, what I want. We're divorced –that's how it should be."

"You're divorced, but Edward says you're going to date?" he clarifies, sounding confused.

"Not date really," I correct, "Just be friends. We can be friends right? Five months is enough to be considered friends?"

"You seem to be in quite the turmoil," Jasper points out, "Perhaps –"

"Jasper," I stop him, "I know this is a bit unethical, but can we just…can I ask you something and you answer me as a friend, not as a psychologist."

"Within some bounds, since we are in a professional setting," he agrees.

I think for a moment how to phrase this, wanting his honest answer. A word Tanya once comes to mind, and seems like an accurate description, "Do you think I'm acting like a victim?"

Jasper leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his face after removing his glasses. The movement is nerve-wracking. I shift uncomfortably, awaiting his answer.

"I still have to be reasonably objective, I hope you understand," he says, "I've been listening to two perspectives after all. And in circumstances like these, I find it counterproductive to lay the blame on any party. However, I can't say I support Edward's actions, but I also don't condone yours."

I nod, as he takes a breath, "That being said, I think you could have handled the events with a little more maturity and rationality. But I don't believe you're acting as a victim. You're going through a divorce, Bella. It's a very trying period for you. You're upset, you're lost, you're emotional, it's understandable."

"Then is it a good idea for me to be pursuing this friendship with him," I ask, "If all I've been doing is acting immaturely…doesn't he deserve more than that?"

"That's the beautiful thing about the world we live in," he smiles, "Every day is a new day."

**-o- **_**Thursday 8:02pm –o- **_

"Well this is awkward," I say.

I take a step back and take in his outfit. Clad in blue scrubs and sparkling white sneakers, he was certainly a sight to behold in the small convenience store. I glance down at my formal business attire and scowl. What I wouldn't give to be in sneakers right now.

"We both frequent here," Edward shrugs as he picks up a red bull, "We were bound to run into each other at some point."

I nod, "Yah I guess," I murmur before remembering my resolution, "How've you been?"

He looks genuinely surprised at my question, "Um, pretty okay actually. Work's been rough."

"That stinks," I scrunch my nose, "Are you headed back there now?"

He shakes his head, "I have an hour –that is if my pager doesn't go off. You're headed to the office now?"

"I have a board meeting," I tell him.

"Oh," he looks slightly disappointed, "I guess I'll see you some time then."

He begins to walk away, an action that sends my heart in a downward spiral. I take a step forward, almost as if to follow him. With each step he travels further down the aisle, almost out of my view. For some reason, I just can't do it. I can't let him walk away.

"Edward," I huff as I jog towards him in my heels, "I actually have an hour before I even need to leave for the meeting. Would you like to join me for coffee?"

A silence follows the question, making me believe that I had mistaken his earlier disappointment. My cheeks flood with embarrassment, expecting his rejection. I suppose I couldn't blame him. When had I ever asked him out?

"It's not that I don't want to," he sighs, "but…I don't know."

"Oh," I murmur, "No, I understand."

"Yah," he trails.

"Well then," I say, "Goodnight, Edward."

"Goodnight," he nods before turning again.

But that damn pull returns. The string that's attached to my heart is tied to the palm of his hand, and grows tauter with his distance. Not liking the annoyance I follow after him. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I have to do something. I have to try. The idea only enters my head as I tap his shoulder, and hold out a hand.

"What are you doing," he asks in confusion.

I take a breath before smiling, "Hi, I'm Bella…Bella Swan."

_This is so stupid, _

He raises an eyebrow still unsure of my greeting.

"So are you going to shake my hand, or just stare at me all night handsome?" I roll my eyes.

"Have you always been so forward with men," he chuckles.

"Do you always make girls wait," I wave my hand in reminder.

He shakes his head as he grasps my hand, but all the while a smile graces his face, "Edward," smiles, "Edward Masen."

**-o- **_**Thursday 9:30pm –o- **_

I enter the room with a smile set on my face, my cheeks still flushed from the night. It had all been ridiculous at first, but Edward and I had managed to have a normal evening. Tanya eyes me as I slide into my seat beside her.

"And just where have you been for the past hour," she raises her brow.

"I ran into your brother," I tell her, "we had coffee."

"You had coffee with Edward," her mouth pops open, "and you're smiling?"

"It was nice," I shrug.

She smirks as she turns to face the head of the room as the meeting commences. Of course my mind is nowhere near the topic at hand. Instead I mull over pieces of the conversation from earlier. We shied away from things that might remind us of our past together, and stuck to safer topics such as work and hobbies.

"_So what do you do for fun," Edward asked as he wiped off the bench for me. _

_I thanked him before perching on its edge, "Well, truthfully I don't get out much. I'm more of a reader." _

"_Really," he bit at his lip to conceal his laughter; we both already knew of my reading obsession, "I guess that's understandable given your job." _

"_Does that mean you practice surgeries at home?" I ask. _

_He snorts, "That was a lame joke." _

"_I figured I should change my joke material from insults alone," I shrug, "but if you ever need a knock off your high horse…" _

"_I'll know who to call," he laughs. _

It was so natural, more natural than it had been in months. I think without the obligations to one another, and the unsaid rule to leave our past alone, we were able to see each other for who we are now. Would it always be this way? No. I remind myself that I still don't know exactly what transpired between Edward and Lauren during our time of therapy. But I don't want that to taint what we shared tonight. Tonight was a possibility of something; friendship at least. I won't make any promises, or get my hopes up, but I'll hold onto it. It's something.

"The attention you're paying to this is simply inspiring," Tanya says as she points to my empty note pad. "I'm all for daydreaming, but you might want to pay attention to the second half. They're talking to us about some new printing ethics policies."

I roll my eyes, "I was so paying attention."

"Victoria called you twice," Tanya says.

I choke on my drink, "She did?"

"No," she cackles.

"If you weren't pregnant and adorable, I'd thump you," I glare as I wipe at my mouth.

She continues to cackle as she turns in her chair, her six month bulge stopping her from rotating fully. Her cheeks have gained some volume, as have other parts of her body. Her skin has the cliché glow that comes with maternity, and her hair is as lustrous as ever. Pregnancy has done Tanya well.

But over the course of the night that brightness begins to fade. Her glowing skin takes on a sickly sheen, and her hair becomes damp with perspiration. I watch as she sets down her pen before resting her head on her hand.

"Tanya," I lay a hand on her leg, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbles.

I wonder if it's just a bout of sickness, but I become doubtful. She battles with keeping her head up, before she suddenly grabs at her stomach.

"Oh God," she chokes before bending over.

I whip my phone from my pocket, simultaneously dialing as I launch from my chair and attend to Tanya. When her pain proves to be intensifying, I shove the phone into the hand of an unsuspecting man, and hone my attention on her.

"Where does it hurt," I ask her as I help her out of the chair, "Talk to me, Tanya."

"Cramps," she cries, "or, I don't know, shit. Oh, Bella, the baby."

"The baby will be fine," I reassure her, "I'm right here."

**-o- **_**Friday 1:04am –o-**_

"What happened," Edward questions as he stalks into the room, "Are you okay?"

"It's not me," I shake my head before the tears return, "T-Tanya, she just got sick -,"

"Do you know if they told Jake," he asks.

I nod, "He's in there with her now. Why won't they let him help?"

"We can't work with family members," he growls before pulling his hands through his hair, "too many emotions involved."

"Is there any way you can go in and see what's happening," I ask.

He nods, "Are you okay here?"

"Go," I nod, "Make sure she's okay."

The room seems twice as empty once he's gone. I wait for the next half an hour, alternating between praying and simply getting lost in thoughts. My mind drifts to dangerous territories, to places I haven't been in years. I had locked these memories away for self-preservation, but it seems as if they're determined to resurface.

_I pried my eyes open, fighting against the heaviness of the smoke. My body throbbed with a strong ache while my limbs refused to cooperate. I heard the shouts of witnesses as they tried to alert the medics. _

_Why wouldn't any of them help me? _

_A pain gripped my entire abdomen. It seared with a vengeance, twisting and ripping from the inside. A scream with the same intensity escaped from my lips. I reached to cradle my womb, but was denied access. The lower half of me was stuck below the airbag and steering wheel. _

_Despite the multitude of sensations bombarding me, I was still able to single out the feel of blood trickling down my legs. I no longer reached for my womb. Instead I reached for my heart, which was deflating with each pump. _

I would do everything in my power to make sure Tanya never had to feel what I'd felt.

Suffocating from my thoughts, I escape to the outside of the hospital. There, I tip my head back and offer up my mind to the skies. Each passing breeze sweeps a thought out, and brings in stability. My breaths even out, and my tears dry. Having successfully collected myself, I turn to enter to the building. It's then that I'm met with a familiar chest, and an even more familiar set of arms.

Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his torso. He returns the gesture, allowing his head to rest on mine. It's with this that I know everything is okay, or at least it will be.

"She's okay," I sigh.

Edward nods in confirmation.

"And the baby," I ask with a little more trepidation.

"The baby's okay too," he tells me.

"And you?" I ask, knowing that it must be as paining for him as it is for me.

"I will be," he says as he releases me, his eyes conveying a message understood by us both.

"We will be," I agree.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to throw hot coffee on it? Tell me!<br>~Christie Hart


	10. Goodies, Gambling, and Guests

*Insert excuse as to why i'm late here* I want to reassure yall that I will post on time next week, but then i'd be lying D: however, I will try my hardest, my very very hardest to post as soon as I can. I'm not saying its going to take like a month, it just might not be on tuesday. Possibly a little later? School is starting back for me and exams are coming. but your reviews just might be the only things keeping me sane. However I must say that this story will be ending soon, perhaps within 2-4 chapters? Thank you for your support and looovely reviews! Thank you for even clicking in this story!

Shout out to SUNFLOWER3759!

Disclaimer: ..fine. they're not mine. but I can sure as hell mess with them.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 10: Goodies, Gambling, and Guests**

**-o- **_**Sunday 2:30am **_**–o- **

I roll over at the sound of my phone, and briefly peel a post-it off my cheek before answering.

"Isa….Isabella Swan," I finally grumble into my cell phone.

"Bella," Edward's voice enters my ear, "I am so sorry for waking you up."

I yawn, "What…what happened? Is there something wrong? Is Tanya okay?"

"She's fine," he answers, "It's just –this is so wrong of me to ask you, it's not even an emergency really, but I really need help."

"Oh," I sigh before glancing at the clock and realizing the time, "Edward, this better be damn good."

"I know, I know," he mutters.

"So what is it?" I press.

"I really need you to help me file some of my paperwork and shit," Edward groans, "Garrett had a family emergency, and Nessie only works a short span of hours. I would bare the load myself, but I have a surgery in about eight hours that I really need sleep for, and I tried roping another nurse into it, but you're the only other person who knows how I file-"

"Shut up," I interrupt his babbling, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

**-o- **_**Sunday 2:50 –o- **_

"I'll make it up to you," Edward promises as he pulls me into a hug the moment I enter the room. "You don't even know how much you're saving my ass right now."

I glance at the massive piles of folders, towering on his desk, as well as on the floor. Not only that, but there are papers scattered haphazardly, all over his examining table two inches high.

"What the hell happened in here?" I ask before shifting a few files over on the desk. I move aside a few papers to provide space for me to plant my ass.

"I'm taking on some of Jacob's patients," Edward says, "You know, since the baby's coming soon."

"Some? This looks like half, Edward," I roll my eyes.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he says, but the lie is clear on his face.

"You're a good friend," I nod, "But that is going to be hell."

Edward only smiles and shakes his head as he reclines in his roller chair, and gets to work. As we sort through the files a sense of nostalgia takes over me. I remember when he was just beginning his medical career. I would sit cross legged on the examination table while he would roll around the room on the office chair. Classic rock would play softly from his computer, as Edward would sing along, and I would chat about anything that would cross my mind.

"Do you remember when we used to do this?" I voice my thoughts, startling Edward in the process. I can't blame him seeing as we've been working in complete silence for the past hour.

"I was actually just thinking about that," he smiles, "And you would make those snicker doodles for us to munch on."

"For _us _to much on," I laugh, "You always ate all of them Edward."

His mouth pops open, "You would tell me you had eaten some already!"

I shrug, a blush washing over my face, "I knew how much you liked them."

He chuckles, "I appreciate the sacrifice."

We return to a silence, left to our own musings. Sometimes I hear Edward humming, and enjoy the background music; other times the air conditioning and the sound of shuffling papers is all that fills the room. This carries on until he breaks the silence once more.

"The other night," he begins, "It's not that I didn't want to go to coffee with you."

I freeze, caught off guard by his choice of topic, "No, it's okay. It just confused me…I thought you wanted us to spend time together."

"I do want that," he sighs, "The finalizing of the divorce papers though, that really took a lot out of me. I didn't expect it to hurt that much. Seeing you so soon afterwards was difficult."

"I didn't expect it to hurt so much either," I murmur.

Could Edward possibly be as devastated over the divorce as I am? I suppose a part of me always assumed that since he wanted it in the beginning that he would be perfectly fine with it now. But we all know that assuming never got me anywhere. And I have been guilty of it on more than one occasion. After taking a deep breath and mentally preparing myself for his response, I ask Edward about the one thing I'd avoided since our break up.

"What exactly happened between you and Lauren," I question, "If you're going to tell me –tell me everything. Tell me the truth."

The shock is obvious on his face, even though he tries to conceal it initially. I can practically feel the nervousness entering his body, and that in turn makes me anxious. Truthfully, I don't know what I'm expecting to get as an answer, and I don't know what difference it will make. We're still divorced; and although we're mending, we're still broken.

"That day that you came to the office to surprise me, Lauren had been asking me to speak with her alone," Edward began, "I knew she had ulterior motives, so I turned her down. This wasn't the first time she had come back after I'd ended it. I'd told her that if this didn't stop I would have to fire her. On top of that I was already looking for a way to make sure we never had to see each other at work.

But over time, she became more persistent. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to think it was an issue. I know, that sounds stupid, and it is stupid, but that was my rational. She'd call my work phone, crying and begging me to give her another chance. I couldn't avoid the calls because she was my secretary, but as soon as she'd begin with her antics I'd hang up."

"So why," I butt in, "Why would you go to her place?"

"She called me again," he shakes his head at the memory, "And the desperation in her voice. The way she was going on –I really thought she'd hurt herself Bella. No matter how persistent Lauren was after I'd ended it, the fact of the matter was that I had encouraged the affair to begin with. I couldn't live with knowing that my actions had caused her to hurt herself. I would have told you, but it sounded just as bad to me as it would have to you. I thought that I could deal with it and it'd be over. I wouldn't have to bring up any of that past hurt between us. To me it was all already over."

"But it wasn't over," I argue, "You still slept with her during our therapy, Edward."

His eyes widen, "No," he refuses, "I swear to you I didn't, Bella."

"I asked you," my eyes start to water, a reaction to his lies, "I asked you and you confirmed it."

"You asked me if I'd been with her, and I didn't answer you," he corrected, "I-,"

"Oh _my bad,_" I throw my hands up, "It was so stupid of me to think that my husband wouldn't hesitate to refute sleeping with another woman."

"You're doing it again," Edward stops me, "You're not even letting me talk. I'm trying to tell you, Bella, would you please shut up and listen?"

My mouth snaps shut, realizing that what Edward had said was true. I'm not even giving him the chance to speak…and the more I think about it, I hadn't given him a chance to speak that night either. Had he really answered with silence? Or had I been too angry to let him even open his mouth?

"Do you remember when I missed that therapy session?" he asked me, "How I'd been stuck in surgery?"

"Please don't tell me you were 'doing her' at that time," I say.

"Bella," Edward starts.

"Fine, I'm sorry, yes, I remember," I roll my eyes, "And then I got upset at you, and I wouldn't eat dinner with you. And then you left-."

I stop, realizing what I had just said. It was _that _night.

"I'd been so angry," Edward continues, seeing that I'm unable to speak. "It was like you weren't there for me all over again. I'm not saying I blame you –but at the time I did. I wanted revenge for it."

"So you did your ex-mistress," I scoff, before receiving his glare, "Okay. That was the last time –go on."

"I didn't sleep with her," he says calmly, "I couldn't. I literally took one step inside her house, kissed her once, and I couldn't do it. Do you want to know why I couldn't do it Bella?"

I nod, my lips refusing to move. Edward is so close that I can feel his emotion, bubbling under the surface of his lips.

"Because all I could think about was the fact that you didn't care," Edward's voice wavers, "You didn't even care if I was off with some other woman. You acknowledged the affair without so much as a flinch; as if it never hurt you. You didn't want me, and that killed me. And sleeping with Lauren wasn't going to fix that."

"You asked _me _for the divorce," my voice cracks, "You didn't want _me._"

"I could have never gone through with it," Edward says.

"Then why did you go through with it now?" I ask, completely confused.

"If I had let you go then, we would have been over," he explains, "but now? There's so much possibility for us, Bella. The divorce is what you needed. Even if you don't see it, I know there's a future for us, and I'm willing to start from scratch to get it."

"What if there isn't a future for us? What if this is all there was meant to be?" I rush, as his face gets closer to mine. "What if we can never trust each other again?"

"What if there is a future?" He counters, "What if there is so much more that is meant to be? What if we learn to really trust each other?"

"What if we mess up?" I murmur, "It's like we're gambling. It's fifty-fifty."

"Well then," he says as he presses his mouth to mine, "There's no one else I'd rather take that gamble with."

**-o- **_**Wednesday 5:15 pm –o- **_

"Let me get this straight," Jake says as he sets his feet on my coffee table, "You two are dating…"

"No," I correct him, swatting his feet off of the glass, "We're just friends."

"Forever?" he flicks his hair girlishly, "Like bff's?"

"How the hell did you even get in here," I crow, "and _why _are you here?"

"Tanya's spending time with Esme, and Edward's in a meeting," he shrugs.

"So I'm the last choice," I roll my eyes.

"Come on Bells, we haven't hung out in ages," Jake elbows my side, "Lighten up."

"I still don't know how you got in here," I raise a brow.

"Tanya's spares," he waves them in front of my face, and pockets them before I can snatch them back, "So are we going to talk or what?"

"Eh, maybe," I shrug as I kick my feet onto his lap, "I've _kind of _missed you."

"Good," he laughs before knuckling the top of my head, "I wanted to do this before, you know, the baby comes and my life is in its quarter-sized hand."

"Are you scared?" I ask.

"Shitless," he admits, "I know almost every guy worries about this before he becomes one, but how do I even know if I'm being a good father? What if the baby cries and I have no idea what to do?"

"You'll know," I tell him, "I mean, I never got to care for Addie as a newborn-,"

"Shit, Bella, I'm sorry," his face crumples in remorse, "I didn't even think about loading this on you."

"No," I shake my head, "Honestly, it's okay. No, it never is easy to talk about her or other babies, but it's a part of me. I never regret her existence."

Jake picks up my hand, "Thank you, for helping Tanya the other night."

"Jake you worry about whether you'll be a good father, but I don't think you're seeing yourself clearly," I smile, "If I could capture your face when you saw the ultrasound after the incident; you'd see. The amount of love and…and _purpose _you showed –you're not becoming a father, you already are one."

He presses a kiss to my temple, "You don't know how much that means to me to hear you say that. Thank you."

I smile, squeezing his hand, "You and Tanya have done so much for me –for us. You don't have anything to thank me for."

"Bella," he starts, "There's actually one thing I wanted to ask you. We'd asked Edward already, but we asked him not to tell you."

"Go ahead," I prompt, slightly confused. We'd already agreed to be the baby's godparents, so what else is there to ask?

"Tanya and I," he continues, "If it's a girl, we'd like to make Addie her middle name."

The air leaves me in one breath. Inside I'm conflicted; would I be able to handle what Jacob has suggested, knowing that just speaking her name causes my heart to still? That their child would have her name… that a part of Addie will live on in my god child. Suddenly I remember that they'd asked Edward already. Had he been okay with it?

"What did Edward say?" I ask.

"No, this isn't about Edward," Jake shakes his head, "What do _you _want, Bella?"

I nod my head as I bring him in my arms, "I'd love it if you used her name."

I could feel his breath release as his body deflates in my arms, "Well we'd be honored," I could hear the smile in his voice, "Just so you know? Edward loved it too."

And just like that, my previous confliction vanished. I'd said to Jake earlier that it's so hard for me to even say Addie's name. But with this development I think that maybe, with time, it will become easier.

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><p>Like It? Love It? Hate it? Kind of want to smack me with a medical file?<br>Tell me about it!  
>~CH<p> 


	11. Bruises, Babies, and Being

**... *moves from hiding place* sooooo i'm pretty sure it's been over a month since i've last posted, and i have to say how horribly apologetic i am. exams have been *insert expletive here* but it's all over now, and hopefully i've done well. thank you for all your encouraging reviews, and those who've been sticking in there and patiently waiting. so without further ado (or more of my rambling) here is chapter 11) [major thanks to ****SUNFLOWER3759 for also putting up with my absence and being an awesome editor]******

******Disclaimer: *insert some witty reason as to why I don't own these characters* ******

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

Chapter 11: Bruises, Babies, and Being

**-o- **_**Tuesday 7:09pm –**_**o- **

"We have really got to stop meeting up like this," Edward snorts before adding a coke to his hand cart.

"No," I shake my head, but smile "You've really got to stop stalking me."

"Don't flatter yourself," he rolls his eyes, "Much to your disappointment, I don't spend my days planning how to meet up with you."

"I'm not flattering myself," I say, "I just don't remember you coming to the store so much while we were married."

"And just how per se, could I be stalking you," he raises a brow, "you don't even come here at the same times."

I purse my lips; he has me there.

"Then why _aren't _you trying to meet up with me," I huff playfully.

Edward chuckles, "You're really something, Bella."

"Something special I hope," I smile before grabbing my can of coffee, "I'll see you?"

"Yah probably in this aisle again," he laughs, "Actually, Bella, I was…um…I was hoping to take you on a date sometime?"

"You know what? I'd like that," I smile, "A lot."

"Right, so I'll call you?" he confirms.

"That'd be a good idea," I cheek.

He only rolls his eyes in response before turning down the aisle.

The rest of the shopping experience goes without incident, and I'm able to leave within the next five minutes. However it's outside that I'm faced with a dilemma. It's pouring and I had walked here _in heels. _I curse before stepping out from under the awning to check the clouds. Maybe it isn't as bad as it looks?

The moment my heels make contact with the slick tarmac, I'm done for. My ankle gives way, and body follows suit. I wonder if the crack of my head is audible to anyone else besides me. The pain doesn't set in immediately, but sure enough it comes. My eyes are too heavy to open, and so I lay for a few moments resting.

"Ma'am, are you okay," a man is at my side immediately. His hands reach beneath me, and he begin to lift my body. From the sound of his voice, I guess him to be young.

"Don't move her," comes Edward's sharp voice, "I'm a doctor –don't move her."

My body is back in contact with the ground soon enough, and my head returns to the wet surface. I want to make some snarky comment about how Edward's probably been dying to use that 'I'm a doctor' line, but my lips remain closed. At this time even talking takes too much energy.

"Dude, it's raining," the young man says, "We're getting soaked out here."

"Then get me a damn umbrella," Edward growls, before adding afterward, "Please."

"Bella," I immediately recognize the feel of Edward's hand at my cheek, "Bella can you hear me?"

I peel my eyes back slightly, my vision blurring before focusing on his face above me. "Hi," I giggle, clearly not in my right mind seeing as there's nothing funny about me getting my suit and shoes wet.

"Hey there," he smiles before pressing along my neck. He administers more tests, such as flashing a light in my eyes to check for a concussion. All the while he asks me random questions, forcing me to hold a conversation.

"You're so annoying," I grumble, not wanting to talk any further.

"It's protocol," he laughs.

"Do you always carry a flashlight with you," I snort before wincing.

"Try not to laugh," he says as he gently lifts my head, and feels behind it. A small amount of blood is on his fingers as he withdraws his hand. He wipes his hand on his pants quickly before rearranging my body and lifting me up. I can feel every movement of his body as he strides through the parking lot.

"You're not taking me to the hospital are you?" I yawn, "Because I don't want to put on one of those awful gowns."

"No, Bella," Edward chuckles, "I'm taking you home."

**-o- **_**Tuesday 8:00pm **__–o-_

I watch through lazy eyes as he maneuvers his way around my apartment. Granted he's never been here before, but somehow he manages. I'm lying down on the pull out bed of my couch, swaddled in blankets, and thoroughly situated. My head ache is somewhat dull thanks to the pain medication Edward administered earlier. However, it grows increasingly hard for me to keep my eyes open.

"Edward," I call, my head throbbing just from the sound of my voice.

"Yah," he rushes into the room. I can't help but smile at his level of caring. From the moment he had picked me up in the parking lot his doctor skills kicked in. Not only is there the professional side to him, but there is the personal side too. Every now and then he will do something endearing, such as stroking my cheek, or brushing back my hair. Each time I close my eyes at his touch, relishing the feeling.

"Can I sleep now?" I ask.

"Let me take your temperature one more time," he says before reaching for the thermometer.

I press my lips together tightly.

"Bella," he raises a brow, "Open your mouth."

I shake my head.

"Bella, you're actinglike a petulant child."

"You took it five times-"

He shoves the device in my mouth, a look of pure victory on his face.

"Look at it this way," he smirks, "It's either your mouth or…"

My eyes widen at his suggestion. I'd slap him, but that would require moving.

"Perfect," Edward caps the thermometer before helping me to recline.

"I told you," I grumble, and release a yawn, "Ow."

"Alright, relax," he says, "You can sleep, but I'm going to have to wake you up hourly."

"What," I crow before wincing, "Then what's the point?"

"Look, you have a concussion," Edward says, "I have to monitor you. I'm sorry, but that's how it is."

"So you're going to call me every hour?" I ask.

His face twists in confusion, "I was planning to just stay the night…are you okay with that? I mean, I think it's better in the case of an emergency…but if you're uncomfortable…"

"No," I rush, "It's not that. It's just, don't you have to get back to work?"

"Bella," he shakes his, "I've missed out on being there for you too many times. Work can wait, at least this once."

Maybe it's the medication, but for some reason my eyes water at him for saying this. I pass it off as a yawn, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Well, thank you," I smile, picking up his hand in mine, "I really appreciate it. Make yourself comfortable okay?"

"Don't worry about it," he nods, before squeezing my hand, "and thanks."

That's the last thing he says before I fall asleep.

**-0- **_**Tuesday 9:30pm **_**–o-**

"Bella," Edward shakes at my shoulder gently, "Bella wake up."

I try to move my hands to remove the bricks that seem to be strapped to my eyes, but it appears the weights are also attached to my arms. My head alone feels like it weighs a ton. He shakes at my shoulder again, this time with a little more force.

"I'm so, tired," I murmur unintelligibly.

"I can't understand you," he chuckles, "But so long as you're talking. Alright. Go back to-,"

**-o- **_**Tuesday 10:34pm –**_**o- **

I'm crying when Edward wakes me up. I'm so tired that it's anguishing. I just want to sleep. I just want my head to stop hurting.

"Edward please," I cry, "I promise you I won't die, just let me sleep."

He smiles as he shakes his head, wiping at my eyes, "I'm sorry, baby. I know, I'm just making sure you're okay."

I don't even nod to show him I understand. I simply just go back to sleep.

**-o- **_**Wednesday 12:26am **_**–o-**

"Bella."

Even Edward's voice sounds sleepy. I then realize that in order for him to wake me up every hour, he has to be awake every hour as well. I feel guilty about this, knowing that he must be dog tired from his day at work. However that guilt doesn't stop me from flipping him the bird.

He laughs, "Okay. I guess you're fine. Good news though –you can sleep for a while now. I'll see you in the morning okay?"

I can't even be bothered to answer.

**-o- **_**Wednesday 5:06pm **_**–o- **

"So he stayed with you the _entire _night," Tanya asks.

"Yes, Tanya, for the tenth time," I roll my eyes, "What's so hard to believe about that?"

"This is Edward," she throws up her hands. It's an odd action seeing her do it, especially with such a large stomach on her, "the man who voluntarily does surgeries at the crack of dawn."

"Yah, well," I snuff, "he said he wanted to take care of me."

"Humph," she snorts before returning to the magazine she has perched atop her mound of a belly. I rub at the bump gently, always in awe that it holds life.

"Jacob's convinced the baby's a boy," she laughs, "and by my size, I'm pretty sure too."

"No, I'm telling you, it's a girl," I shake my head, "I can feel it."

"Oh yah, because the baby's in _your _womb," Tanya scoffs, "We'll see in a bit."

I return to the TV, my only source of entertainment since I keep dozing off. Edward planted me here with Tanya, who was also on house arrest. The pregnancy had given her high blood pressure, and it was advised that she refrain from any strenuous tasks. That's how we ended up stuck in her house, so I could watch her, and she could fulfill the simple task of waking me up every so often.

Just as I'm about to doze into another sleep, a warm liquid hits my hand. I ignore it at first, thinking that the drugs Edward gave me have wierd side effects. But as I move my fingers I realize that I'm not just imagining things. I open my eyes to see my hand glistening.

Water?

I glance up at Tanya, only to see her mouth popped open in surprise and her eyes wide.

"Shit." She says before beginning to panic, "Bella-,"

"Okay, okay, calm down," I jump up too quickly, my head spinning as I try to orient myself.

"It's more than a month early, what if something's wrong," her eyes fill with tears, "What if -," "Tanya just breathe," I rush over to the phone, stumbling along the way. My vision is doubled as I aim for the phone keys.

"Jacob Black," he answers.

"Jake," I nearly shout into the phone, "It's time."

"I'll be there in two minutes," he says before hanging up.

I briefly consider calling Edward, but I assume that Jacob will grab him along the way. Meanwhile I try and calm Tanya. I had never reached this part in my pregnancy, but I hope I can still serve as some comfort.

"Tan," I smile, "It's okay. You're just going into early labor. It doesn't mean anything's wrong."

"But what about my blood pressure," she says, "what if I get preeclampsia or some shit like that!"

"The more you stress, the worse it is for the baby," I remind her, "Are you getting any contractions?"

"No, am I supposed to be? Shouldn't I be? My water broke," she speaks at a mile a minute.

"Some women get it after," I tell her, "Stop worrying. Can you feel the baby? That's all that matters."

"It's still," she cries, "Can you… can you take a look and see?"

"It's not like I'm going to see the baby moving Tanya," I tell her.

"No, just, see how far along I am," she prompts, taking deep breaths.

I lift up her dress, not quite sure what I'm expecting to see. My stomach churns a bit as I peer under, and inspect the premises. I never thought I'd get such a view of my best friend, but if it means I get to help her in her child birth, then so be it.

"You're really dilated," I tell her, "I can see the baby's head clearly."

"Oh okay, -Oh!" Tanya squeals, "It's moving! Ow, ow, ow, ow Bella."

I hold her hand and as she releases a low moan and curls onto her side. Dizziness halts me for a moment before I can return her to her back.

"Bella it hurts, so much," she pants, "Oh God!"

"You know Tan, when you said 'we'll see in a bit', I didn't think you meant now," I crack the joke, hoping it will take her mind off the contractions.

"Shut the _fuck _up I'm not in the mood for jokes right now –ow, ow, ow," she grabs at my shirt, and tugs me forward as the contraction intensifies.

"I'm here," Jacob shouts as he bursts through the door. A chorus of hallelujah sounds in my mind as he takes my place and tends to Tanya. My shirt however remains in her clench, and I've no intention to remove it.

"What took you so long," she cries as she takes reign of his shirt as well, "I'm about to explode!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby," he kisses her multiple times before gently trying to extricate her hand from her shirt.

Big mistake.

Tanya screams as another contraction hits, "_Where the fuck are you going?" _

Jake's eyes widen in terror as she tugs at his collar and mine, effectively cutting off my blood supply. I find myself screaming along with her.

"Alright, I have the bags," Edward sounds from behind me, "Let's get her to the hospital."

"I can't move," Tanya shakes her head, "I'm just going to have the baby right here on this couch."

"No, you're not," he rolls his eyes before helping her to a sitting position. "Jacob pick her up and let's go."

Jacob lifts her up quickly, not giving her a moment to protest. They make their way through the door quickly.

All the while, my shirt is still in her hand.

I'm finally released when she's loaded in the back of the car. She lays across the back seat with her head in Jacob's lap. Edward takes the wheel, and I sink into shotgun, and lay my head against the window.

She's small; about 3lbs and 16 ounces. With her tanned skin and inky black hair, she is the spitting image of Jacob. The only similarity between her and her mother are her green eyes. We barely get the chance to see her before the doctors cart her off. They say she's fine, but she's a preemie. They're taking precautions. Meanwhile Tanya is understandably distressed; all she wants to do is hold her child.

I sit by Edward, my hand in his and my head against his shoulder. He pats at my hair gently, smoothing it down over my face and shoulders. I allow my mind to drift into 'what could have been' and picture myself in the hospital bed, holding our child. If I close my eyes and just concentrate, sometimes I can still feel the weight of her in my arms.

"How are you feeling," Edward murmurs to me.

I give a small smile, "Better. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Any time," he presses a kiss to my forehead.

I want to process what has happened. I want to mull over the fine details and dissect every action. I realize none of that is important as Grace Addie Black enters the room. After being passed around, I finally get the chance to hold her, my eyes' flooding as her body sinks into my arms. And just as the three Godmothers imparted their gifts to Aurora, I find myself gifting her with words of wisdom. I tell her that she doesn't have to mull over the fine points of life. I tell her that it's okay to fall in love. I tell her that it's okay to hurt, and it's okay to forgive. But the most important thing I tell Grace is that sometimes it's okay to just _be_.

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want strangle me for it? (well i'd hope not)<br>Tell me about! 

~Christie Hart


	12. Quenching, Questions, and Quarters

Greetings! I'm back from the world of, well, wherever I was, and am finally posting. I have to say, thanks for reading this. You must get pretty tired hearing my excuses and apologies. However, I have to say that its because of more exams and now i'm in a summer program ...so it gets a bit hard to find time to write. Alright. Let me do my normalss, and 1st: disclaim that these characters are not mine 2nd: thank SUNFLOWER3759 for her wonderful editing prowess and 3rd: tell you to enjoy the reading.

So do it.

Enjoy *bats eyelashes*

* * *

><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes <strong>

**Chapter 12: Quenching, Questions, and Quarters**

_**-o-Monday 12:54pm –o- **_

I curse as I flip through the papers swamping my desk surface, and try to find the phone. In the process I manage to send a cup of water across the table top, soaking every document I need for the following meetings.

"Shit, shit, shit," I curse as I strip papers off the desk.

I miss Tanya.

All the while the phone still rings and I hurry to answer it. That task would be much easier if I knew where it was.

"Bella," Victoria calls from her office, "Line 1."

I grab the office phone and hold it between my shoulder and ear, sinking into my rolling chair with a loud sigh, "Yes, Victoria."

"I shouldn't have to call across the office like a common newsboy, that's why we have the multi line phone system, with blinking lights and an intercom," Victoria snaps, "Why the hell do you have the phone if you won't pick it up?"

"I'm sorry, my other phone was ringing and-," I start.

"Yah, I don't need excuses," she says, "What I need you to do is get that letter that was sent to you by the Board."

I shuffle through my soggy papers, searching for the manila envelope. I have the urge to just swipe my hand across the desk and clear it of the mess, but I know that will not help me.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock," Victoria clicks into the phone, "Why am I waiting on you?"

"You know, could you give me the hour to get the folder to you? I'll bring it to your office personally. Just give me some time," I huff into the phone, wanting to add a few more obscenities. I remind myself that Victoria is, in fact, my boss.

"An hour and no later Bella," Victoria orders before ending the call.

_Board letter, Board letter.._.the office phone crashes to the ground as I yank a manila folder from underneath it. I dive for the black device, hoping to save it before it meets its untimely demise. I only manage to soak my top with the water from the desk, and knock over my stationary holder as well.

I _really _miss Tanya.

"Double shit, double shit, double shit," I round the table quickly, and bend to survey the damage.

"As great as this view is, do you need some help with that?"

I snap up from my position quickly, catching the corner of the table with my nose. How that's even possible, I have yet to find out.

I mean my nose isn't even _that_ big.

"Are you okay?" Edward rushes over to check my nose.

"Yah, yah," I groan as I rub at my face. Edward takes over, carefully inspecting the area as my eyes begin to water, "It's okay, really. I'm just. I'm so frazzled –I have some important meeting with Victoria and a few STC board members, and Tanya isn't here, and apparently I'm an unorganized pig without her-,"

Edward laughs, "Bella calm down. Let's sort through this yah? You pick those papers up to get them in order, and I'll clean up this mess."

"Thank you," I sniffle as I pull him into a hug.

As he wipes at my desk and floor, I'm able to separate my papers into intelligible files and locate the manila folder. My cell phone also happens to be hibernating under a coffee mug, along with my car keys and lipstick. Within twenty minutes my office is back to working standards, and I'm able to take a breath as I lean against my closed office door. I shut my eyes as the room fills with silence. Finally –peace.

I'm startled by the feel of Edward's lips against mine, but I don't fight it. With everything that this day has brought, I welcome his touch. His tongue teases my lips open before delving in, and I grant him permission. All too soon the kiss is over, and I'm left desiring more.

"I'm sorry," Edward apologizes quickly, "I didn't come here for that. It's just that I haven't seen you or touched you or anything in so long, and then you're in that skirt and your shirt is completely see through right now."

I glance down at my shirt and blush as I see that my plain black bra is clearly visible. All I can do is laugh and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. How can I be upset at that face?

"So what did you come here for," I ask as I sink into my chair. Edward takes the seat in front of me at the other side of my desk. It's odd seeing him in my office. He has only been here a number of times, all of which I can count on one hand. But the more he sits here, the more I like the look of Edward in this part of my life.

"Just to see you," he shrugs, "I know I'm seeing you tonight…but I couldn't help myself. How's your head feeling?"

"Fine Edward," I laugh, "It's been over a week. Really, you can stop asking."

"I know, I just think you went back to work too soon," he shrugs.

"How are things at the hospital?" I ask, "You look well rested."

"Yah, chief has me doing less since I had taken Jacobs shifts," he explains, "so I got the day off, took a few naps, and ate a proper meal."

"Normal people stuff," I smile, "Well good. I'm happy you finally got a break."

"Yah, it was much needed," he agrees. "Think you'll still be able to make it out of here by seven?"

I glance at the clock and mentally calculate the time it will take for me to fulfill a few tasks, "It shouldn't be a problem. Where am I meeting you again?"

Edward laughs, "Oh no, you're not getting me to say it that easily. It's a surprise."

I roll my eyes, "You're impossible."

"And you're still not going to know what it is," he teases.

"You're going to pay-," I threaten as my office phone rings. I shoot Edward an apologetic glance as I accept the call on speakerphone.

"Isabella, I changed my mind," Victoria blares through the phone, "In my office. Now."

"Like hell you did," I mutter, "You gave me the hour."

"That's before you decided to entertain a little boy toy," she says. A blush heats my face at the thought of her seeing Edward and I, but it isn't as if I'm hiding anything. This is _my_ office. I'm allowed visitors. I remind Victoria of this.

"Don't test me," she answers harshly, "In my office."

I hang up on her without so much as a goodbye, and huff as I snatch the manila envelope off my desk. It isn't so much her demanding my presence as it is her condescending tone that irks me about Victoria. Because truthfully, some of the things I can accept that she says. It's just the way that she says them that has me wanting to claw at her throat.

"Why do you let her talk to you that way," Edward asks, a scowl planted on his face.

"It's not as if I have a choice," I roll my eyes, "She's my boss."

"You're so much better than that, Bella," he shakes his head as he stands up. He leans over the desk to press a kiss to my forehead, making me feel as if he truly meant his previous statement. "I'm sorry that I got you in trouble."

"Shut up, Edward," I smack at his chest playfully, "You saved me. Thank you for coming. See you at seven?"

"Sharp," he smiles before leaving.

_**-o- Monday 6:45pm –o-**_

I don't think I've ever had a more disorganized day. It's nearly seven, and I've only just left the office. By the looks of the traffic I won't be getting to dinner on time. I text Edward and apologize profusely, explaining that I had been tied up in a meeting. He responds, saying that it's fine, but we'll simply have to meet for dinner. A lump of disappointment forms in my throat as I lean my head against the steering wheel.

At least I'll have time to think.

I peek at the envelope sitting on the seat beside me, and then shift my gaze away quickly. It's almost as if staring at the paper too long will cause a premature decision. I itch to peel back the sealed flap, and reveal all the information I need to know. But somehow I know that even quenching that thirst wouldn't take away the pressure of this decision.

There are so many factors to consider.

For the first time, and I mean the _first _time in my life, I try to think using Edward's logical perspective, weighing the pros and cons. I realize that there is truly only one pro against the many cons, but somehow it still seems to be an even battle. A compromise could be made with each downside…well, all except one.

What am I going to do?

Victoria had actually seemed genuine when talking to me in her office. She consulted me on my choices, and listened to my thoughts on the matter. After about an hour of intense conversation, she shooed me away stating that if I sat for too long, I'd leave imprints in her seats. Her non hostility was nice while it lasted.

But where does that leave me now? Stuck between crap and a shitty place it seems. And on top of it, I'm late for my date with Edward. A smile tugs at my lips as I think of how eager he had been to see me earlier today, and so drawn to kissing me. My decision would change that; it would change everything as a matter of fact.

However this is something I want. How many times in my life had I sacrificed my wants for someone else's? How many times had I been denied? Now I'm being served something I've desired on a silver platter, and I'm questioning it. So many questions, so many doubts –I'm tempted to just flip a coin and solve the matter. It would be that easy. I'd flip the coin, and it'd all be left to pure fifty-fifty chance. Either way I will live with the decision. It's not as if one choice will affect me and the other will not.

And so in the congestion of traffic, I get out of my car at 7:06pm and place a quarter to balance precariously on my thumb. The man in the car beside me sizes me up before rolling his eyes at my foolishness.

Never mind him –it's not his future this coin is deciding.

A _ping _sounds before the quarter sails through the air and falls to the black tarmac. I consider getting back into my car without even looking at the coin, but figure I need to suck it up and decide.

_Heads. _

With that, I climb back into my car just as the traffic light finally turns green.

_**-o- Monday 8:15pm –o- **_

Conversation has been light between us. I think Edward knows that I have something to tell him. I just don't know when or how I'll do it.

He looks devastatingly handsome tonight.

I take in his bright smile, and the way his hair is complimented by the candle light. His eyes look intimidating in this light, but the sight of them still gives me comfort. Anxiety and nervousness flutters in my stomach, a result of both my news, and of being in such close proximity to him. We don't talk about any topics that wouldn't normally be discussed on a first date. This is meant to be easy. This is meant to be effortless.

I can't do this.

"Edward," I stop him, my voice blunt and sudden. "I'm leaving."

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><p>Like It? Love It? Hate it? Kind of forgot what the hell was going on because I've taken so long to post and you've had to re-read it? Tell me! I love hearing from you.<p>

~ChristieHart 


	13. Mashing, Mojitos, and Matatas

So...this wasn't too bad was it? I mean it hasn't been THAT longs since I've updated the last chapter. I've finally started my "summer" and can sleep unhealthy amounts and waste away my days. It feels great :) Some of you had to reread, which i apologize for, so i'll give you a few key events that have happened up until now.

1) Edward and Bella are attempting to start over

2) Tanya has had her child

3)Bella received a job offer in California, and has chosen to leave.

I'm sad to say, that this story will be ending very soon...as in the next 3 chapters. I know i said this before. but i'm actually serious now -.- So I hope you guys have been enjoying it! And that you would join me again for future stories.

*insert disclaimer here* *insert great thanks to SUNFLOWER3759*

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><p><strong>Ashes, Records, and Window Panes<strong>

**Chapter 13: Mashing, Mojitos, and Matata's**

_**-o- Monday 8:20pm –o- **_

Edward is silent.

Really silent.

And I know, that wasn't the best way to deliver the news, but I honestly wasn't expecting to say it quite like that either. I was going to lead him into it, tell him that I had important news, and then gently break the ice.

Now he's sitting here with this strangled expression, his lips pressed together in such a tight line that they've disappeared altogether. I'm used to Edward's anger, I'm used to his anguish, and I'm used to his arrogance, but what I'm not used to is Edward's astonishment. What do you do when the only doctor in the house needs a doctor?

"Edward?" I finally say, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say it that way."

There's no response.

I glance down in my lap, not quite sure what to say. My cheeks heat as my eyes begin to water. Why does it matter if I have Edward's approval? With it or not, I've made my choice. So then why does it hurt so much that he's silent?

"Edward?" I try again.

"I-I don't think I understand," Edward says, his voice so soft it's barely audible.

"I got a job offer for a higher position in California," I tell him, "To be part of the company team."

"California? Why California? Why not here," he rushes.

"Because that's where the opening is," I continue, "The Seattle Company here recognized 'my potential' and wanted to promote me, but there are no positions here. Apparently California jumped at the chance to have me. So they're transferring me."

"And you want to go," Edward asks, "I mean, you've thought this through? Maybe you need more time…maybe you should think about it a little more-,"

"Edward," I stop him, reaching for his hand across the table, "I've thought about it enough. I really want this. I don't want to leave you behind, but, I have to do this for me."

His eyes well with tears, the last response I had expected from him. I had expected him to be angry, hell, I expected him to just go cold and forget about me. But this, this was almost ten times worse. I watch as those green eyes gloss over, and those thick eyelashes become brushed with tears. I watch as he pulls his hand back from mine, and removes the napkin from his lap. I watch as he pushes back his chair, stands slowly, and then leaves.

Yah, I fucking hammered the ice.

_**-o- Tuesday 3:05pm –o- **_

"I leave for a few days and you choose to go to California," Tanya crows, "Are you punishing me? Because I think you're punishing me."

Gracie gurgles as her mom paces up and down my apartment, unable to sit as I talked her through the news.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Tanya whispers, not wanting to upset the bundle in her arms. "I had to hear it from Edward."

"It's not my fault he called you," I roll my eyes, "I literally found out yesterday night, Tawny, I was going to tell you."

"After you told him," she scoffs, "Really. When did I become second to Edward?"

"Oh calm down, mama bear," I tell her.

"He called me and he just sounded so distressed," she shakes her head, "I swear he was crying."

A feeling of discomfort builds within my chest, "He seemed really upset."

"Yah, but he didn't have to leave you at the restaurant," Tanya growls.

"No, I don't blame him at all," I say, "If you heard the way I told him. I just said, 'I'm leaving.' It came out all wrong. That wasn't the way I had planned to do it."

"You mean the way you planned it in the fifteen minutes you took to make your decision," she laughs, "Actually, subtract seven minutes. It doesn't take so long to flip a coin."

"First of all, screw you," I stick out my tongue childishly, "And secondly, I did not take fifteen minutes."

Did I?

"Bella," Tanya finally ceases her incessant pacing and places Gracie in her carrier. Afterwards, she sits next to me, her side flush against mine. It doesn't take long for her to pick up my hand and wind her fingers with mine. "I think you thought this through too quickly. And you might think that I'm biased, and that I just want you to stay –which I do –but I'd be saying the same thing had you turned down the offer so quickly."

"I know it's alarming that I left my fate up to the toss of a coin," I say, "But Tanya, I can feel it. I can feel that this is right for me. I never wanted to move to Seattle. I did it just to follow Edward, just to start a family. But now that's on hold, and I can actually go after something I've dreamed of. I've busted my ass in this industry, and I'm not letting this chance slip by. So yes, it was a quick decision, but it's my decision all the same. And whatever the consequences are, I'll deal with them as they come."

She stares at me long and hard, almost as if she can discern my sincerity just by the color of my irises. I wonder what she sees as she looks into my eyes. Does she see someone who's made many mistakes? Does she see a woman beaten down and worn for worse by her past? Or does she see a woman seeking redemption; a woman who wants to fulfill a passion that's previously been out of her reach?

Whatever it is that Tanya saw, it must have been mind changing.

"I'm going to miss you," she says as she pulls me into a hug, "I already do."

"I will too," I press a kiss to her hair. "Thank you for all you've done for me. You put me back together when I was throwing myself away."

"Oh please, not that sap," Tanya giggles, but I can hear the tears in her voice.

"You're the Nicholas Sparks to my happy ending," I continue.

"Bella," she warns.

"You're the sparkly vampire to my-," I begin.

"STOP," she snorts as she slaps a hand to my mouth. "Why did you even read that?"

I lick at her palm, only to have her wipe it across my face, "Oh, and Bella?"

"Yah," I garble into her hand.

"Don't ever call me Tawny again."

_**-o- Friday 12:40pm –o-**_

"It surprises me every time I see you," Dr. Whitlock presses a kiss to my cheek. "And how are you faring?"

I drop into the chair I'm way too acquainted to and close my eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of his office. I've never thought of myself as one for therapy, but apparently I'm addicted to it.

How do you even treat that?

"I'm doing wonderfully," I answer, "Well, sort of. I have a problem."

The doctor laughs as he shakes his head, "Hi Jasper, how are you? I'm great, thanks for asking."

I smile ashamedly, "I'm sorry. You have this thing about you that makes people want to unload all their problems and receive your sound advice."

"Ha ha, very funny," he smiles, "Now tell me, what this problem is. Am I to assume that it's Edward related?"

"Isn't it always?" I sigh, and begin to update him on the occurrences of my life over the past few weeks.

Unsurprisingly, Jasper is enthusiastic about my job offer and acceptance. He applauds me for actively seeking self-happiness. Of course he does wince when I tell him of my method of delivery for the news, and how I told Edward. The more I talk with him, the more I realize that I view Jasper as a friend rather than a therapist. I suppose they're all meant to feel like that, but I had a feeling that even if we hadn't met in this setting, we would have gotten along quite amiably.

"So you haven't talked to him all week," Jasper clarifies.

I nod.

"And that is because…" he trails.

"He completely walked out on me! He obviously doesn't want to talk," I groan, "And I can't even be upset at him for doing it. That was the wrong time, the wrong setting, the wrong way. I was just so anxious and I needed to tell him. It flew out of my mouth. I feel so bad about it."

"Have you ever thought to apologize to him for it then," Jasper asks.

Oops.

"You see?" I crow.

"Okay, Bella, calm down," he laughs, "It's good that he's gotten the time to think. However, I do think you should apologize. And you two should probably talk about what your options are. Your moving doesn't have to mean that the relationship the two of you is over. Many couples make it long distance."

"Do you honestly think we could?" I ask, "I mean, after everything we've been through."

"Anything's possible with you two," Jasper mutters.

"I so heard that," I glare. "I guess, you're right though –but a part of me feels like Edward wouldn't even want to try. If we can't make it work when we're together, how would we make it work when we're apart?"

"You never know, Bella," he says.

I look at Jasper.

"That's the worst advice ever," I tell him, "'You never know?' What kind of therapist are you?"

"Hey, you're not paying me," he snorts, "You're getting Jasper right now. Not Doctor Whitlock."

I open my mouth for rebuttal, but then close it promptly. He has a point.

"Eh, thanks," I say sheepishly, "You know, for doing this. You didn't have to."

"I want to," Jasper waves me off, "I wish the best for you Bella. Make sure you come to see me before you leave will you?"

"Of course, doc."

_**-o- Saturday 12:43am –o-**_

I wipe my eyes with the edge of my bathrobe, my leftover mascara leaving me raccoon-esque. I haven't had many of these moments lately, but sometimes it's inevitable.

I mean, who doesn't cry over childhood movies?

As Simba wakes up in the dry, cracked desert to the voices of Timon and Pumba, I replenish my mojito and lean back on the couch. At times I wish life could be as easy as the Hakuna Matata philosophy, but worry is also something that's inevitable. Though does that mean that worrying is bad? I don't believe so.

Worrying, done in healthy amounts, shows that you actually care about the outcome of something. It means that you care enough to spend time thinking about it, mulling over it, and ironing out every detail. When it becomes a problem is when you debilitate yourself over every small matter. I use this argument to tell myself that it's okay to worry about my future with Edward because Edward is not a small matter.

The doorbell rings, and I cuss because honestly, I ordered that pizza over two hours ago. I wondered if a pizza company could be indebted to you because of their ridiculous waiting time. I had finally resorted to picking through trail mix, discarding all the raisin, nuts, and pretzels…and only eating the marshmallows. That's where the Mojito came in.

"I'm sorry, kid, but I am not paying for this pizza-,"

A pair of hot, plush lips press to mine, eliciting the most delicious feelings within me. However, initially I'm still as a rod because I don't know why the pizza kid is kissing me. Then, when I gain coherent thought, I respond to the kiss, completely and utterly overtaken by the feeling of joy.

"One thousand, six hundred, and forty miles," Edward says.

"Um," I stutter, "Pardon?"

"One thousand, six hundred, and forty miles," he repeats.

"Okay," I lick my lips and squint my eyes, trying to gain concentration, "I'm pretty sure I'm drunk…did you…did you drive that long to reach here?"

"No Bella," Edward laughs, "That's how many miles I'll have to drive to see you."

It's funny how sober you can get from ten words….eleven words. Okay. So I'm not fully sober.

"You'd do that," I clarify, "For me? You'd drive all that way?"

"Every month I will," he tells me, "Until I can figure something out. Maybe even transfer to California. But I'll do it. If that's what it takes, Bella."

"But…your career is here…your home is here." I tell him.

"I run the high risk of sounding horribly cliché when saying this, but you are my home," he says, "And I spent this week thinking 'how could you leave me', 'how could you decide this decision without me', and 'don't I mean anything to you,' but the fact of the matter is that this isn't about me. This is about you going after what you want, and me needing to step up and support you for once. Bella, I've fucked up, so many times. I'm not going to do it again. I told you I'd wait for you, and if this is part of the process, then I'll take it. I want whatever you'll give me. Whether it be a video message, a phone call, or an e-mail. I'll make it work."

"No," I shake my head as I wrap my arms around his neck, "We'll make this work."

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><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to throw Edward 1,640 miles away still? Tell me about it!<br>xxChristie


	14. Leaving, Loving, and Lilies

****Hello fellow readers, I hope all is well with you! I don't have much to say, rather than this is the second to last chapter. I've really enjoyed writing this story, and I'm so glad you've stayed this long to finish you for your reviews!  
>*Disclaimer: these characters are sooooo not mine.<br>And a big thanks to sunflower3759 for her awesome work

Enjoy :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: Leaving, Loving, and Lilies<strong>

_**-o- Monday 12:56pm –o-**_

I stare at the empty apartment and wait for a sense of nostalgia, sadness, or _anything _to hit me. But I feel absolutely nothing for the place, and somehow not even that bothers me. I suppose it's the fact that I haven't lived here for long, and I didn't have the time to make it a home. I wonder with a fleeting thought whether I'll grow attached to California. A part of me knows that it will never quite feel like home with Tanya, Jacob, Gracie, and Edward gone.

I can't believe how attached I've gotten to that baby after only a few months. She has me wrapped around her chubby little finger, and can get me to do just about anything with those green orbs. More and more she begins to look like Jacob, her skin darkening and her hair remainingjet black. I swear on my life though, that she has Edward's ears.

Poor kid, they kind of stick out a bit…

Somehow, I find myself in front of my old house. Edward was meant to pick me up to go to the airport, but I wanted to see it before I left. This won't be my last time seeing my old abode, but I can't help but bid it a goodbye. Not all the memories I created here were bad. I knock at the door, and wait as Edward makes his way to the front.

"Hey, I thought I was picking you up," Edward scratches his head in confusion.

"Hello to you too," I roll my eyes before walking in. I'd wait for an invitation in, but you know, that requires waiting.

There are no differences to the house, besides its immaculacy. I give a small snort because I'm positive the place is cleaner than when I actually lived here. I don't venture far into the house, but instead fall onto the couch and close my eyes. The feelings that I had expected to overwhelm me in my apartment, are now very apparent.

"You okay?" Edward asks as he crawls onto the couch on top of me. It would be a cute gesture if it weren't for the fact that he's squashing me.

"You're obnoxious," I snort as he presses his weight into me. I can feel his chuckle as he plants sloppy kisses on my face, "Get _off._"

He rolls to the side, but keeps close, his lips touching at my temple, "Are you crying?"

"No," I lie, as I hide my face in his shoulder, "The smell of your armpits is making me emotional."

"Ouch," Edward laughs, but then his voice softens "You'll be back here soon. This isn't the last time."

"I know, but," I sigh, "it still hurts."

"It'll get better," he hugs me tightly, "I promise."

_**-o- Monday 2:04pm –o-**_

I held onto him, emptying my tears into his coat jacket. I thought saying goodbye to Tanya and the Blacks had been bad, but this, _this _is much worse. There is no way I am going on that flight. That, or Edward has to come with me.

"Sh, Bella, sweetie, come on," Edward gently pries my fingers from his jacket, "You're going to miss your flight. They called for boarding ten minutes ago…and people are staring."

"I don't care," I whine and resist, digging my fingers into his hands.

"Um, okay, ow," he says before bringing me back into his arms. I don't care how many people are staring, or how many times the flight attendant gives me the stink eye, I can't do it –I can't say goodbye to Edward.

"I can't go," I tell him, "I don't want to go anymore."

"Yes you do, don't say that," he hushes me, "It hurts, but it'll be fine. I'll be over there as soon as I can."

"But visiting isn't enough," I shake my head, "I don't want to leave you at all."

"I don't want to either," Edward looks up at the ceiling, a way to slow his tears, "I love you so much, Bella Swan."

"I love you too," I cry, finally pulling my fingers away from him.

He kisses me one last time, and when he does I can feel his tears on my cheeks. I'm instantly brought back to the memory of us standing outside of Jasper's office, on that day when Edward had lost a patient to a car accident. It shows me how far we've come from that day all those months ago. And a part of me is scared that once I leave, we'll lose some of this progress, but then I look into the eyes of the man in front of me and I believe him. I believe with all my heart that Edward really does love me. Despite our pasts, despite our mistakes, despite the many fuck ups we've had to endure to get here, we love each other. Distance isn't going to change that. It will only strengthen what we have.

"Bye Edward," I murmur as I press a kiss to his mouth.

"It's not goodbye," he shakes his head, "It's 'see you later.'"

**-o- **_**Friday 12:06am **_**–o-**

"Babe, I have surgery in the morning," Edward yawns into the phone, "I don't want to leave you but…"

"Alright." I'm pretty sure my pout is audible.

"Don't be like that," he sighs, "You know I miss you."

"I miss you too," I whisper, "When are you coming to see me?"

"It's been two weeks, Bella," he laughs.

"I know, it's been forever," I whine.

"You didn't even like my company this much when you were here," he jokes.

"What can I say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder," I reply, "Okay, fine, go to bed Doctor Masen."

"Oh, I like the sound of that," Edward says, and I can almost see him raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yah, well, you can get off on it when you hear it over the intercom," I roll my eyes, "Goodnight, love you."

"Night, Bella," he chuckles, "Love you too."

I roll over and look into the brown eyes across from me.

Okay, so I might have gotten a dog.

It was on impulse, and I've always wanted a dog. Then I had to name him Mango because I've always wanted a dog named Mango. And he's a shar pei because really_, _who wouldn't want a _wrinkly_ dog named Mango?

Edward might possibly flip that I got a dog without him.

But I was so lonely when I was walking by the pound and he was right there just staring at me. Yes, he's old, and yes he's a little bit of a geezer, but he's my geezer. He rests his wrinkly big head on my chest as I stare up at the ceiling.

These couple of weeks has been hard for me, but I've managed to get a hang of things. It's not as if I haven't lived on my own before because I'm used to the silence of solitude, but somehow being alone in another state makes it extra lonely. I go to work where the people are unfailingly nice, and the view is spectacular, but it's taking time to feel comfortable. Mango has done a great job of keeping me company. Somewhere inside me I know that he needs me too.

That and the food I give him.

He lets out a massive sigh, and puffs his hot, not-mango-smelling dog breath in my face. I lean down and give his wrinkly face a kiss, sliding my fingers underneath his orange collar.

Because really, what's a dog named Mango without an orange collar?

**-o- Wednesday 4:05pm –o-**

I sit with my legs crossed on my desk, and smile at the thought that Tanya is most likely doing the same thing in her new office right now. I've been working in LA for three months now and it's been unrealistically perfect. Granted I have a shitload of work to stay devoted to, but how can I really complain? The only thing missing is my family.

Edward calls me every night. I mean, of course I extend the same courtesy, but sometimes he calls even after I call. I know he misses me, it's apparent in his voice. I hope he can hear how much I miss him too.

Tanya is a little less subtle. She blatantly cusses on the phone, demanding to know why I've left her. I know it's the stress of having a newborn, but sometimes I worry about her. I placate her with promises to visit her soon. Jacob normally has to take the phone and give my ear a break, but I like hearing from him too. I make another promise to spend more time with him when I visit. Then there's Gracie, who can't really do more than gurgle into the phone. I eat up every second of it.

Mom and Dad call a bit more too. I think they know that being away from family is hard on me. I never thought I'd rely on phone calls so much to make my day. Mom is ecstatic to hear from me more than once a week. She plans to come down to visit me one of these weeks. She says she wants to get a 'California tan'.

Esme has even called to check in on me. I always feel a sense of awkwardness when I begin a conversation with her, but it passes within a few minutes. I invite her to also come visit me, seeing as I haven't met with her in over a year. I know Edward gets satisfaction out of the fact that we are talking. But it was me who got the surprise, when he called my mother to catch up with her. After learning everything about the divorce, Renee was understandably not too accepting of Edward. She's still a bit skeptical of our dating, but she warms up to him more with each conversation.

"Hey boss," Kate waltzes into my office, all legs and all beauty. I had been wary about her when we first met–her knack for style and fashion resembles Lauren's, a little too much for my liking –but I quickly got over it. We became instant friends, and have hung out a few times over these last few weeks. "I think we should party tonight." She waggles her eyebrows for effect.

"Kate, it's Wednesday," I laugh, "We have work tomorrow, and we just went to a bar on Saturday."

"Yes, but that was a bar, this is _clubbing,_" she drops into the seat across from my desk, "And you can work from home tomorrow…which means _I _can stay home tomorrow. What do you say?"

"No can do," I smile, "I have a Skype date."

"Again," she groans, "I can't believe I'm competing for your attention, with a man a thousand miles away.

"Actually it's one thousand, six hundred, and forty miles," I tell her, "And I'm not talking with him, I'm talking with Tanya."

"Are you _fucking _kidding me," Kate rolls her eyes, "So you're ditching me for a _woman?_ Fine, but you'd better tell her hi for me."

"She doesn't even know you," I laugh.

"No, but from what I've heard we'd make great friends," Kate smiles before she gets up. "I'll see you later then boss. Take it easy."

I chuckle to myself as Kate leaves the room. I'm still not used to her forward personality, but I love it anyways. She is right, I'm sure Tanya would love her.

A few minutes later she returns with a bouquet of freesias. My eyes widen at the view of them, not quite believing how big they are. I immediately leave my chair to help her with the load.

"Your man sure does love you," Kate whistles as she hands me the card. I rip it open expectantly, almost salivating over what Edward might have written.

Yah, I have it bad.

_I bet you thought this was from Edward. Just thought I'd brighten your day :)  
>Sincerely, Esme<em>

I sigh, "Nope, not from him." The gesture was nice, but my deflated feelings clouded over my appreciation.

A knock sounds at my door as a second assistant enters with her arms full of lilies. She places them down without a word and leaves. Kate rises as eyebrow at me, and I shrug in response, not really knowing what's going on either.

I pluck the card off, and hope that this time Edward's script will grace the stage.

"_There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness." ~Alexandre Dumas _

_Just thought I'd spam you with some wisdom since you can't come to my office for it. _

_Sincerely, _

_Dr. Jasper Whitlock _

A laugh escapes me at the message and I place the card on the desk, wanting to save it. It shouldn't surprise me that Jasper would quote Dumas on a card.

"Was that one from him?" Kate asks.

"No, from my therapist," I tell her, and she nods in understanding, "That feels so odd to say. Oh, I just got a card from my therapist-,"

"Ms. Swan?" An assistant appears in the door, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a delivery for you."

"Don't be ridiculous, you don't need to apologize," I tell her, but the confusion is clear in my voice. She moves aside as a man wheels in a cart of about five bouquets of roses. Kate's eyebrows reach her hairline in disbelief.

I rush over to the cart and snatch the card off of the delivery, finally seeing the handwriting I want.

_Come home, I'm waiting for you. _

_Love, Edward. _

I throw the card and squeal like a little girl, wrapping my arms around the assistant and delivery man as I jump in exultation.

"Kate, I'm going home," I tell her, "And don't expect me back until Monday!"

"Right-o, Boss," she rolls her eyes, but a smile is plain on her face, "Give Edward a good sexing for me."

I don't even bother to flip her off as I grab my purse and head home.

**-o- **_**Wednesday 5:17pm –o- **_

I'm surprised to see that he's on the couch, completely knocked out when I arrive home. I try my best to walk over to the sofa, and contain my absolute elation. That all goes to the wind when I leap on top of him, and shower his skin with kisses anywhere I can reach.

"You're here, you're here, you're here," I bounce, not able to get a grip on myself. I felt like a nine year old kid entering an arcade for the first time without my parents' supervision. I could bounce off the _walls. _

"Whoa, hey there," Edward laughs as he places his hands on my hips and steadies me.

I don't even allow him to breathe. I smash my lips to his, wrapping my legs around his back and humming happily. I didn't know my heart could inflate so much, but it's about to pop out of my damn chest. He kisses me back with just as much enthusiasm, hungry for my attention. His hands push underneath my shirt, tickling my ribs as he continues upwards. I don't tease –I cut right to the chase. His shirt is off in seconds.

"I'm so happy to see you," he kisses down my neck, latching his mouth onto my chest.

"I'm happy to see you too," I laugh as I run my hands through his hair.

"I can tell," he removes my bun and wraps his hand in my pony tail, pulling my face down to his.

Edward's hands explore my body, almost as if he has to relearn every crevice and plain. I suppose he haven't had sex in so long I might pull a muscle mid-thrust.

Wait, is that what we're about to do? I almost laugh out loud at myself. I couldn't peel myself away from him if I even wanted to. Something I definitely don't want to do. I move against him suggestively, inviting his hands to rendezvous inside my pants.

Let it be known that all logical thinking has flown out the window at this point.

"Bella, we have to stop," Edward gasps, "Or else…"

"Or else what," I stop so I can look at him properly, "I want this."

"You do?" his smile is wide, and I can't help it. I'm flattered.

I answer him by sliding off my heels first, and then my dress pants. His hands are hot as he anchors me to his hips, his nose sliding along the column of my neck. I shudder in anticipation, not knowing why I keep doing this to myself. Why do I keep waiting so long to get my fill of Edward? When will I ever learn? Every inch of me screams that this is right, and this is what I want to do.

Our clothing is gone, and our breathing is heavy, and we're still on my couch, but I couldn't care less. He slides into me and I feel something much more than lust and orgasmic bliss. For the first time in California, I feel like I'm home.

**-o- **_**Thursday 2:20am –o-**_

"When did you get a dog?" Edward asks, holding a staring contest with my wrinkly protector. He doesn't seem to keen on sharing me –Mango, not Edward (although I'm pretty sure the latter is feeling the same sentiment.) As he watches Edward carefully, Mango's wrinkles pool on the ground in the place where he lies.

"About the fourth day of me being here," I snort, "I gave in."

"And you named her Mango," he continues.

"Him," I correct, "Mango is a man…my big strong man." The dog's tail thumps against the carpet at the mention of his name. It had taken a great deal of struggling, but I'd gotten him to pick up the name. It helped that he didn't have one before. Now, if only I could get him to stop shitting on the carpet.

"You named a boy dog Mango," Edward clarifies.

"Yes, I did," I raise an eyebrow.

"That's so cruel," he says.

"How is that cruel," I sit up from the carpet, holding the blanket around my naked chest as I glare at him, "It's cute."

"No it's not, that's like naming a human boy Barbie," he explains.

"You're talking such crap right now, Edward," I roll my eyes. "There are no rules about naming dogs."

"Yes there are," he counters, "Now all the other little dogs are going to laugh at him."

"Was turbulence a little too rough on the way here," I ask, "Or you didn't hear the attendants say that your items may shift during take-off?"

I laugh as he tugs me into his arms, and punishes me with a few nips on my mouth. I dig my fingers into his ribs, forcing him let go of me, even if the punishment isn't _all _that bad.

"How the hell did you even get into the house," I realize, giving him a suspicious glance.

"Do you ever lock your windows," Edward suddenly looks upset, "I could have been anyone, Isabella."

"Oh, Isabella now," I scoff, "You're the one creeping through my windows."

"I'm sorry, Bella, I just don't want to see you get hurt," he presses a kiss to my shoulder, "It worries me that you're over here alone."

"I'm fine," I tell him, "I promise, I'll start locking them. Here, I'll start now."

I get up, buff naked and all and head over to the window. As my fingers touch the sill I realize the irony of the situation. Whereas about a year ago I had been prying up the sill to get away from Edward, I am now shutting it to make him happy.

My crawling out of the window had ended something toxic between us, but his crawling in, has startedsomething beautiful.

* * *

><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Kind of want to make Mango chew it up? Tell me about it! I'd love to hear. <p>

~Christie


	15. Reasons, Results, and RockaBye's

**I can't believe this is it -but here it is! The end of this story. I really want to thank you guys for sticking along with me through it, as well as leaving me such useful (and flattering) reviews. Also, a great thanks goes to SUNFLOWER3759 for her wonderful editing skills. ...I should also disclaim (as i don't like to do) that these aren't my characters, but I've enjoyed toying with them, and i will continue to do some in later stories [because let's be honest, I don't think I can stay away from fanfic for too long]. I didn't say this before...I don't think, but this story was inspired by the song 'Love the Way You Lie' by Eminem ft. Rihanna. That's where the name, and some of the lines come from. I don't want it to bite me in the ass later that I didn't say that SO. Enough rambling -thank you for your reading and reviews...and,**

**Enjoy :o) **

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Reasons, Results, and Rock-a-bye's<strong>

**-o- **_**Monday 12:29pm **_** -o- **

"I have to admit," Jasper peers over the rim of his glasses, "I didn't think I'd be seeing the two of you together again like this."

"I'm just as surprised as you doc," I agree, "I'm sure Edward has been giving you updates."

"Yes he has," Jasper smiles happily, "But I'd love to hear more, especially from your point of view."

"It does tend to be more exciting," I grin at Edward.

Edward rolls his eyes, "Just tell him, would you?"

**-o- **_**3 weeks ago Friday 1:24 pm **_**-o- **

"You are absolutely ridiculous, do you know that?" I snap at Edward as I fling my purse onto the sofa. I contemplate removing my heels and flinging them at him, but I didn't think that would be very productive.

I had come down to visit for the next couple of weeks, and Edward had invited me to some expensive dinner. He called me when I had reached the restaurant, apologizing profusely; he was going to be late. Now, the man's a doctor, so I couldn't be upset if something came up. But after waiting for an hour I decided to surprise him with a hospital visit, only to find that he had wasn't even at the hospital.

Edward and I had been doing the long distance shindig for the past year and a half, and though it wasn't perfect, I had never once regretted it. I trusted that he would be here, and be faithful to me, after everything we've been through. I know I'm allowed to have my doubts –because the man technically cheated twice –but I try my hardest not to reach the wrong conclusions. I just hated that he was lying about his whereabouts.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he keeps saying, "I just had to run a few errands."

"Errands, Edward? You kept me waiting for two hours and you want to blame errands," I scoff.

"Bella, it will all make sense soon, just trust me on this," Edward says.

"I do trust you," I tell him, and I am telling the truth. He hadn't given me any other reason to think otherwise over the past year. "But excuse me for being a little suspicious when my boyfriend is missing in action on a night where _he _invites _me _out. Just tell me where you were Edward. I won't get mad."

"You're already mad," he rolls his eyes.

"Because I was waiting for two fucking hours-," I scream in frustration.

Edward whips something out of his pocket that initially makes me flinch because really, you only pull guns out of your pocket that way. But instead of a weapon of destruction, all that's in his hand is a little blue velvet box. Instantly I feel like a bitch.

But could you really blame me?

"I have spent the past month searching all over for the perfect ring for you," he starts, "I visited over twenty jewelers until I found this one. And then, like an idiot, I let Tanya try it on, who got it stuck on her big pregnant fingers, and when she was washing her hands she dropped it into the active garbage disposal. I had to take it to get shined and buffed and shit, which apparently takes an unspeakable amount of time. Then, because the world basically hates me right now, I got scheduled for a surgery. I was picking up the ring when you were at the hospital."

"I," I stutter, "What the hell was I supposed to think, Edward-,"

"I know you have every right to be mad at me, and every right to be suspicious," he stops me, "but I will never hurt you, especially like that, again."

"Oh great, now I feel like some insensitive bitch that ruined your proposal-,"

"Fuck_,_ Bella," Edward growls, "Would you just shut up, and marry me?"

**-o- **_**Monday 12:38pm **_**–o-**

"Please tell me he didn't actually propose like that," Jasper's eyes were as wide as saucers as he takes in the story.

"Oh," I snicker, "He did. Smooth isn't he?"

"She just wouldn't stop talking and let me propose," Edward groans, "I had this whole elaborate evening planned. I apologized right after."

"But you said yes," Jasper raises a brow.

Edward and I exchanged a glance, "Edward didn't tell you?" I ask.

"He had said he proposed, but he likes keeping me in suspense," Jasper rolls his eyes.

"We both agreed that we should wait a little longer," I say, "It's not because I don't love him. I do, truly. But it's only been around two years since the divorce."

Jasper let out a sigh of relief, "That's actually a very wise decision on both your parts."

Yes, I had rejected a marriage proposal from Edward, but I have my reasons. Though I love him with my entire being, a part of me knew that even after two years, we would be moving too fast. We don't need legal papers to show that we love each other, and marriage isn't a decision that should be taken lightly or in the spur of the moment. I don't think Edward and I considered that fully when we had originally gotten married. We were both young, and wanted different things for ourselves. Perhaps if we had taken that into consideration, we could have saved ourselves a lot of strife.

"So where do we go from here?" Jasper asks. I love the fact that he says 'we'. It's a reminder that he is here for us in this journey.

"Wait, wait, doc," Edward chuckles, "Would you believe there's more?"

**-o- **_**Two weeks ago Monday 4:54pm **_**-o-**

"Bella, this is really awkward," Tanya casts her eyes to the ceiling, avoiding eye contact.

"For God sakes Tanya, you've seen me naked before," I roll my eyes, and lean my elbows against my knees.

"I don't understand why I have to be in here while you pee. I can come in for the results," she whines.

"I don't want to be alone for any of it," I sigh, "I'm scared."

"Of peeing," she scoffs, "You owe me."

"I took your pig headed brother off your hands, that's payment enough," I remind her before jumping, "It's coming!"

"You really don't need to announce it," she squeals, "Just pee on the stick already."

I place the device between my legs and allow the warm stream of urine to sully it. There is only one other time in my life I cared so much about the pee coming out of my body, and that had been a life defining moment much like this one. Now here I am with Tanya again, waiting to see if this will be life changing as well. After I finish, I cap the contraption, and place it on the sink as gently as I can. I regard it with caution, as if dropping it would ruin the results. Tanya and I wait on the tiled floor of her master bathroom.

"Tanya, what if it's negative," I mope, "I won't be able to tell Edward."

"Are you really going to keep more secrets from him?" she slaps my arm, "No offense, but you don't need any more shit in your relationship. I'm surprised he's taking your rejection to the proposal so well."

I sigh, "I know, I know Tanya. But shit –it'll break him. I mean it's already messing me up. We don't need any more hurt."

"But what if it's positive? It's fifty-fifty Bella. You're just choosing to look at this negatively," she says, "Glass half empty and shit."

"Ugh, when your child pops out we have to cut down on the cuss words," I chuckle, "or else it'll turn out like us."

"We made the same promise when I was pregnant with Gracie," she snickers as she picks up my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Sweetie, it's time to check it. But remember, whatever the results are, I'm here for you, and Edward still loves you."

And despite the gaping hole that's threatening to rip my chest open from the anxiety –I believe her.

**-o- **_**Two weeks ago Monday 11:32pm **_**-o-**

I sit outside on the front step and wait for his arrival. I've been here for the past two hours, but not because he didn't call. Only because this is where Tanya left me, and I haven't the energy to get up and go inside. After the tears, after the laughter, after the talking, and even after the silence, I am exhausted. All I want is for Edward to come home and pick me up off the ground. All I want is for him to save me like he always does.

Then finally, from around the corner I can hear the soft purr of his engine, and soon his blue-white headlights are shining down the street. I watch as he parks the car, and rests his head against the steering wheel. It's alarmingly dark out, but even in this darkness I can see the pure tiredness on his face. He pulls his hands through his hair, once, twice, three times. I want to go in there, I want to hold him the way he holds me, but I don't. I don't because I know that those three minutes in the car are his way of leaving behind Doctor Masen, and stepping into Edward.

So when he has finally breathed it all out, he collects his things and gets out of the car. He makes his way to the front door where I know he'll be surprised at my sitting there. And he is.

"Beautiful, what are you doing on the ground," he murmurs, before putting down his briefcase and jacket.

"I'm waiting for you," I smile at him, my heart finally coming to rest.

"Didn't you get my text," he asks, as he hooks an arm around me and pulls me up. I don't know how he knows he needs to help me, but he does. He presses his lips to my nose in a small kiss, "You're freezing! How long have you been out here?"

"Not too long," I shrug as I pick up his briefcase and jacket for him, "I just missed you."

"I missed you too," he sighs, and gifts me with a proper kiss, one that makes my toes curl and the hairs on my neck stand.

I allow him about half an hour to situate himself while I dish out his dinner. My pulse begins to race as I anticipate the news I'm about to deliver, but I remember that no matter what, Edward loves me. Our dinner is relatively silent, the only conversation being about Edward's day. He talks about how he lost a patient on the table, and I know how hurt he must be feeling. He barely makes it through the meal, but I don't blame him because I couldn't even eat earlier. No matter how hard Tanya tried to force me.

And after I've cleared the table he scoots back his chair, a motion for me to sit on his lap. However this time I decline, not because I don't want to, but because I have something else in mind. I lean down and tenderly kiss at his neck before whispering for him to play for me.

We go to the piano, where he scoots over to allow room for me. He pulls my legs into his lap, and then proceeds to serenade me with one of his lullabies. I close my eyes and lean my head against his shoulder, embracing the moment and not quite wanting to let it go. Then I remind myself that things do change, and that it is inevitable. So with that, at the end of Edward's lullaby, I change everything.

"Can I show you something?" I ask him.

My voice startles him, but all the same he smiles, "Show me what?"

"On the piano," I tell him "I'm preparing a song."

He raises a brow, "Oh? This should be good."

"Shut up," I grumble, and swat his hands away.

The tune is shaky and unrecognizable at first, but then I gain confidence and I'm finally able to play. Edwards face goes through a range of emotions. At first it is obvious that he's trying to hold in laughter, but then, when he stops being an asshole, he joins in the playing and adds flourishes. Together the once simple tune gains dimension, and something once plain is now magnificent.

_Twinkle-Twinkle little star_

_How I wonder what you are_

_Up above the world so high _

_Like a diamond in the sky…_

"That was great," he presses a kiss to the top of my head, "I'm proud of you."

I chuckle, wondering how it is that Edward hasn't figured it out as yet. But I'm not going to tell him because it'll be better when he says it.

"What are you preparing for," his face scrunches up in confusion. It is from this question that I doubt my husband's intelligence, and I truly hope that he's not this oblivious when he cuts into his patients. But because I love him despite his obtuseness, and because his face is adorable when it's scrunched up like this, I give him a clue.

"Well, I know I have nine months, but I figured I'll get a head start on it," I admit.

"Wait, but why would you need it in-,"

Then the moment I've been waiting for comes, and the news seeps in. In a flash of movement I'm ripped from my space in front of the piano, and he's kissing me, and hugging me, and loving me, and crying with me, and we're just twirling, twirling, twirling. And yes this is changing things, but for once it's for the better. It's for the very better. If that even makes sense.

I don't really care if it doesn't.

"I'm going to be a father?" he confirms.

"Yes, Edward," I'm barely able to say before he recaptures my lips, "You're going to be a father."

And suddenly he sinks to his knees, and I wonder if I'm going to have to call the ambulance for him. But then his arms are moving, and I know he's conscious, just barely. He lifts up my shirt, and leans his forehead against my flattened tummy. He presses a kiss, once, twice, three times, and I'm still just fucking _twirling_ on the inside. Then he murmurs two words I hadn't expected him to say.

"Thank you."

**-o- **_**Monday 12:45pm **_**-o-**

"Congratulations!" Jasper walks around the table to press a kiss to my cheek.

"Thank you, so much," I squeeze him as we embrace, the tears flowing freely now. I could blame the tears on the excess of hormones coursing through my body, but I'd be lying. "Thank you, for everything."

"You're more than welcome," he holds me tighter before releasing me, and exchanges a hug with Edward. "I don't see further reason for our therapy, however if you don't mind, I'd like to have one last session with the both of you."

"Sure," I smile, "But don't make it sound as if it's the last time you're seeing us Doc. You think I don't know about those times you and Edward went out?"

Jasper laughs, "He's alright, that one."

"He's been itching to have you over for dinner too," I roll my eyes at Edward, whose suddenly gone quiet with embarrassment; "Maybe I do have to worry about that affair."

He rolls his eyes, "Do me a favor Bella?"

"Yah, Doc?"

"Try not to pass down all of your feistiness to your child," he laughs, "I don't think it'd be able to survive the double dosage from you _and _Edward."

"Will do, Jasper," I shake my head at his antics, "Will do."

**-o- **_**Thursday 12:56pm**_** –o-three months later –o- **

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Edward rushes through the door into the office, "I lost track of time."

I glare at him, "I told you about this meeting three weeks ago in advance and even told Nessie –how do you lose track of time? _I flew up here for this._"

He rolls his eyes, "Relax, Bella."

Did he just tell me to relax?

"Relax? You want me to relax?" I screech as I roll up my sleeves. I don't know why I'm doing it because it's not as if I'm going to punch him. Well, not in public at least.

"Yah, I do," he speaks slowly, as if I lack the intelligence to understand, "That's why I said it."

"Yah, well I'm about to say something pretty colorful you little fu-,"

Jasper clears his throat, gaining our attention. My cheeks heat from embarrassment, and anger. It's moments like these when I just want to reach out and scratch that stupid smirk off of Edward's stupid face.

"Bella, I see pregnancy is treating you well," Jasper chuckles, "as it is Edward."

"Oh no, she was like this before the pregnancy too," Edward says.

And then I slap him across the arm because I really can't hold it back any longer.

"Okay, okay," Jasper smiles, "how've we been doing?"

We fill him in, telling about our weeks and the pregnancy. Although it's only been a short amount of time, and physically there hasn't been much change, emotionally the pregnancy has been a catalyst. It's hard being so far from one another, but Edward's sure that by my second trimester, he'll be moved down to LA, and helping me throughout the rest of the pregnancy. I know he wants to be there for every second of it, but he has obligations down here, as do I in LA. The dynamics of our relationship have changed in a sense. I mean Edward and I were happy before, but now we are plain ecstatic. Very rarely do we grate on each other's nerves. Okay not rarely, but it definitely doesn't happen often.

That often.

"Definitely progress," Jasper nods, "A vast improvement."

"For some of us," Edward grumbles.

"I'm sorry, did you say something," I raise a brow.

"Guys," Jasper groans, "Look. I have one last exercise; let's just get through it okay? It's very simple. There are three hats, one labeled 'past', one 'present' and one 'future.' We will each pick a card out of the respective hats, and you must relate the item presented on the card to your marriage. Are we clear?"

First Edward sinks his hand into the hat labeled, 'past.' From it he draws a card with a golden urn printed on its face. His face contorts in confusion, "An urn?"

"Get creative," Jasper shrugs.

He thinks for a few moments, but finally comes up with something.

"Urns hold ashes right?" Edward starts, "Well…in a way, we can think of our past as ashes that we keep bottled up in an urn. But when we finally let go of the past, figuratively speaking, we throw our ashes to the wind."

My eyes widen at his explanation, not having expected any of that. I mean, I'm not sure what I did expect, but it definitely wasn't that.

"Bella? Would you like to draw next," Jasper asks.

"No," I shake my head, "It's fine. You can go."

Jasper's hand disappears within the pink fedora (why Jasper has a pink fedora I wouldn't know) and withdraws a card from the 'present' hat. On its surface an old fashioned record is depicted. He scratches at his scruff, pretending to be deep in thought. I know that he's probably seen all these cards a million times, and has a perfectly formulated answer for every one of them.

"Every day as your marriage progresses, you let go of the past grievances that pain you," he says, "but every day we are also making memories. It is essential to record these memories, and never let themgo."

Another answer seeps in, and I begin to feel the pressure of the exercise. I wonder if I can make such an insightful comment to a plain picture, but I feel as if I'll only make a fool of myself. With slight reservations, I reach into the 'future' hat and pull out a picture that makes me snort.

"A window," I laugh, immediately thinking of the night I escaped through the window, "Did you put this in here just for me, doc?"

Jasper chuckles at this, and even Edward has to snicker.

"Come on, Bella," Jasper says, "Pick something more positive…something pertaining to the future."

I stare at the card, as if the meaning will jump out at me. I look at Jasper, I look at Edward, and I think, _what could a window mean? _In all this time, with everything we've been through, what could a window say about our future?

Hoping for a little guidance from him, I look back at Edward beside me. I expect him to be staring at me waiting for my response, but instead he's glancing down with a small smile on his face. He runs his fingers over my hand, and gives me an encouraging squeeze. Though we might not be married, I know that I'll love this man forever. With that the image of our hands ingrained in my memory, and that small word '_forever'_ in mind, I know what I want to say.

"Even when every door slammed in our faces," I say, "and with every odd against us, we managed to find a window. We're opening it to our future."

**-o- **_**Sunday 4:06am **_**–o-**

"This is absolutely horrible," I huff as Edward helps me to sit down. The bulge of my stomach makes it incredibly difficult, but somehow we manage to get me on the side of the dock. "Any moment now Free Willy is going to start singing and expect a response from me."

Edward's loud guffaw disturbs the calm of the water in front of us, "You're cute you know that?"

"Cute…a whale…same difference," I huff, "Was there a point to this or…"

"You're an awfully impatient pregnant woman," he rolls his eyes, "In about a month you won't be able to do things like watch the sunset with me anymore. Then you'll regret it. "

"You won't be here in about a month if this sun doesn't come out soon," I smart.

"Such a pretty little mouth," he kisses me, his movements soft and caring, "such feisty little comments."

"It's either this, or I sugar coat it," I tell him, "Which do you prefer?"

"Lie to me," Edward chooses.

"I'm so excited," I giggle against his lips, "I would rather be here with you on this hard ass floor than in my cozy bed."

"Mm, tell me more," he encourages.

"I don't feel like I should be starring in a marine movie," I continue, "Your hair looks absolutely fabulous-,"

"Shh, look," he turns our heads to look at the approaching sun. And although I've been bitching the entire time about being dragged out here, I have to admit it that this is a devastatingly beautiful sight. But as I look at Edward and the way his emerald eyes overflow with adoration for me, I can't help but think the view pales in comparison.

I hold his hand in mine, and use our joined palms to brush his locks from his forehead. His lips draw closer to mine, and all I can think is that I will never get enough of this man.

"You are not perfect," I whisper against his mouth, "I'm not terribly in love with you."

I feel his smile as it makes his way across his face, uneven and yet perfect at the same time, "Bella?"

"Mhmm," I murmur as he captures my mouth.

"I absolutely _love _the way you lie."

* * *

><p>Like it? Love it? Hate it? Don't really like the way Bella lies? Tell me about it! I'd love to hear. <p>

~Christie


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